#then i hopefully never have to return to this shithole

[zwiebelii]

uhhh tw animal sickness, bc my cat isn't doing well right now, and tw for general me not getting along with my parents, especially my mom

My cat is currently sick, he was basically vomiting out all the kibble right after eating it, for 4 days. He's sort of fine now, we bought more expensive food which is specifically for cats who have stomach problems, and he can eat that. He also poops normally now (he didn't poop for a while because, well, he puked everything right up), and generally he seems fine, but today at 6 am my mom and I woke up because he was coughing and choking, and trying to vomit, even though nothing came out. So the timeline is, he was vomiting for 4 days, now he had 3 days where he was sort of alright, and now this, and yeah - I'm worried. Especially since my parents have never really cared about his health that much, and he is morbidly obese, because whenever he started meowing because he was bored and wanted to play, they would just feed him to make him shut up. He's now 15 years old, and generally it would be good to take him to a vet to just see if he's alright.

Also, my best friend works as an assistant to a vet, and I've been texting with her about all this, and she also stressed that it is time for him to visit a vet for once, no matter how much it costs. Plus he is still alright mood-wise, he still plays a lot, he is very curious, and just not at the point of seniority like my parents like to pretend he is. He won't die from a visit to the vet, ffs

Now all of this has been making me worry, and I've spoken up more about how my parents are overfeeding him, or that the sausage they like to feed him is unhealthy, etc. etc., and this has led to a fight, and it's just once again made me realise just how miserable i am here

In 38 days I can finally move out for real. Until the end of february, it's just a temporary accommodation, and I have to look for a flat for the time after that, but jesus christ. I am SO glad that I will be gone from here for real. My parents' behavior is not normal, specifically my mom's behavior. She's constantly controlling everyone, everyone needs to do as she says especially me because, well. haha, sexism and internalised misogyny, am i right boys 😎.

i am currently writing my thesis, and i have to stay home to do that. she gets pissed at me for staying at home. for a while i would go to the library to write - she would get pissed because i could easily work from home, why are you away all the time? is it because you hate us? you want to avoid us? you ungrateful bitch of a daughter, you're just trying to avoid cleaning, yadda yadda yadda

if i cook something, i get criticized for my choice of food, for using too much of the ingredients, for cooking too slowly. if i don't cook, i get called a freeloader.

it doesn't matter what i do, it's always bad in my mom's eyes, and i am always the worst and dumbest and most stupid daughter anyone could have. if i mention the tiniest criticism of something, i am "just like my dad's shitty family", i get called a "jew who never stops complaining" (yeah the antisemitism is still going, babes 😎), meanwhile she starts screaming out of nowhere, never pays attention to something like her facial expression (which is fine! i dont think everyone should be hypervigilant about what their face looks like. but she tells me to fix my face at nearly every occasion), and she's just all around rude to everyone here

my whole life she's been telling me that i am a rude, gross person, that i'm controlling, that i snap way to quickly, and you know what! i'm not! i have enough people in my life now that i know that that is not me! she is, in fact, projecting her own issues at me. and that sorta brings me to the last point-

there's hope. only 38 more days of this hell. i won't have to deal with them daily, i won't be confined to my room anymore, i'll be able to cook whenever i want, to leave the house whenever i want, to freely pick and choose what i want to do with my life, without this constant cloud of criticism for, quite frankly, RIDICULOUS things looming over me. technically, after 34 days, i have to submit my thesis, and after that, i do not need to stay at home. i can just fuck around all over town, and then, on December 1st, full move out.

maybe i should try doing a countdown to that? i would post it on my other blog (@zwiebel-studies). that might motivate me to get my shit together and get more organized, and provide me with a sort of.... "guiding start".

[sixpennydame]

dark side of the moon⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ [chapter 1]

Pairing: yakuza!Levi x f!reader

Word count: 4.6k

Summary:

Neo Tokyo, 2235. You’ve escaped the festering wasteland that is Earth for Mars, to a city where only the strong survive, and everybody has secrets.  Taking on a job as a hostess, you woo the city’s elite, your smile hiding your own dark past. When your path crosses with Levi Ackerman, said to be the strongest member of the Ackerman yakuza clan, you’re not sure whether to consider him a friend or a foe. Because in this city, nothing is what it seems. And the past never stays buried.

Author's note: I will be using Japanese words and phrases periodically and will have a glossary of terms at the end of the chapter.

Series Content/Warnings: mafia/yakuza AU, flashbacks, slow burn, mystery, cyberpunk, sci fi, non-binary Hange Zoe, eventual smut, dark content, graphic violence and sexual content, minors do not interact!

Chapter Content/Warning: mentions of blood, physical assault

next chapter/masterlist/AO3

Blood is thicker than you thought it would be. 

A sea of dark red surrounds you, soaking your clothes and the floor around you. 

Someone’s saying your name, but all you can hear is the thunder of your own heart beat. 

“Hey. Look at me. Do you remember what I promised? That I was never going to let anything bad happen to us again. We swore that we would always be there for each other.

No matter what happens, I promise that I will protect you.

I’ll fix this.”

.

.

.

“Oi you alive? Can you hear me?” A voice said.

You snapped back to reality. Get it together. Don’t fuck this up.

“Sorry…could you repeat that?”

The person in front of you takes off their glasses and cleans them with the edge of their shirt. “I said, you’re obviously not from around here. Where are you from?”

You shift in your chair. You knew that you were going to stand out from the other inhabitants of Neo Tokyo the moment you arrived here.

“I um..I’m from Earth.”

Their eyes go wide. “Earth? That shithole? I didn’t know there were still settlements there. How did you even earn a ticket to get to Mars?” You open your mouth to reply, but they put their hand out. “Don’t answer that - it’s none of my business.”

Obviously your planet of birth has made you intriguing; hopefully intriguing enough that they’ll give you a job. They look you up and down like you were a science experiment. “And why would an Earthling such as yourself want to work here, at Club Azure?”

“I’m a hard worker and a quick learner. And I need to make money fast.”

“Mmmhmmm… you can definitely do that here, if the guests like you,” they smile, “and you certainly would be a unique curiosity.” Brown eyes gleam behind their glasses, “But why do you really want to work here?”

There’s a silence as you think about what to say, but decide you might as well tell the truth. “This line of work doesn’t require me to have Mars citizenship papers.”

“And there it is,” they nod, seeming satisfied with your honesty. “It’s true, we don’t really care about those things here. In return, we expect our employees to be…discreet about our clientelle’s  information and other business that goes on here.”

“I can be discreet.”

“Is that so?” The brunette leans back in their chair and gives you another once-over, their finger tapping their chin. “You’re unique, and there’s a certain something about you… I’m certain the boss is really gonna love you,” they say out loud, more to themself than to you. 

If they aren’t the boss, you wonder who is. 

“Ok, you’re hired.” They reach their hand across the desk and towards you.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips; you hadn’t realized that you’d been holding your breath slightly. Your hand meets theirs and they shake it vigorously. “The name’s Hange Zoe. I run this fine establishment,” they say with pride. “And what should I call you?”

“My name is —“

Hange immediately puts their finger to your lips. “Nuh uh uh, you weren’t about to give me your real name, were you?” They click their tongue. “It’s best that you don't do that. If the authorities come skulking around asking questions, the less I know about you, the better.” 

“Oh…I see.” 

Seems that there’s a lot about this world that you don’t know.

“We need to give you a stage name. Let’s see..” They’re tapping their chin again. “…flower names are always a good choice. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Flower? I’ve never seen one of those before.”

“Oh right..you’re from Earth. It’s been a ruined wasteland for a long time..I guess you wouldn’t have ever seen them. Not that we have them here, either..” Hange stands up from their desk and begins to pace the floor of the small, cramped office. “What are your interests? Any hobbies?”

“I don’t have any hobbies but..” a smile comes to your face, “..on Earth, I loved to look up at the moon.”

“The moon? Hah! That orb is just an exclusive country club for the rich and famous. If your goal is to get there then you have another thing coming.”

You shake your head. “No, nothing like that. But when I was small, me and my si—” you stop. You’re getting too personal. Hange notices, but says nothing. “I mean, I would sit out and look at the moon for hours. I just wanted to escape.”

“And it looks like you’ve done that.” Suddenly Hange’s face brightens. “Luna! That’s what we’ll call you.”

They put their hand on top of your head. “Our little Earthling…let’s get you introduced to the rest of the group and get you dressed for tonight.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wait…I’m starting tonight?”

“Do you have something better to do?” They wait for a reply, to which you give none. “Then follow me.”

You follow Hange through the winding, narrow hall as they open a non-descript door. 

“This is where the girls get changed.” 

They open the door, gesturing for you to enter. Steel lockers are built around the perimeter of the room, with dressing tables and mirrors on the other side. Around you are women in various stages of undress: some have just arrived and are in their street clothes, others are walking around in their underwear, and all of them stop at some point to look you up and down. You knew you were going to stand out when you arrived in Neo Tokyo, but in the cruel, fluorescent lighting, it’s blazingly obvious. Most of the women around you have adorned their bodies with tattoos, the ink under their skin glowing brightly, making some of the images seem to move. Others have augmented their body: shining metallic arms and legs, hair and skin in every color of the rainbow…

All of it is nothing less than extraordinary.

There’s nothing extraordinary about your appearance. Your body doesn’t have a single tattoo or piercing. Your skin, eye, and hair color are ones that you were born with; your ‘human-ness’ is clearly on display for all to see.

“Presenting the hostesses of Club Azure!” The women go about their business as Hange walks you around the room. “You’ll find I’ve curated a diverse group of females who cater to every kind of taste….alien, android, and humanoid. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

One woman, putting on makeup, scoffs at the statement. “And just who have you wrangled to work here now, Hange?” She turns around to look at you, her nose scrunching up and her lips turning downward in a judgmental frown. “Or should I say, what..”

“Now, now, Ymir, be nice. Everyone!” Hange claps their hands,  “Luna’s just arrived from Earth and I need you all to play nice and show her the ropes. Historia! Find her a dress that’ll fit and let her shadow you tonight.”

A petite woman with golden, glittering hair and bright, shining blue eyes turns around. White tattoo ink glows under her skin, glittering like diamonds. “Of course.” She takes your hand. “Come with me, Luna.”

She leads you to a locker on the far end of the room and presses in a code. It opens with a clink. “This was Nanaba’s locker. I figure you and she are about the same size.” She pulls out a few items and holds them against your body.

“Was? Did she leave without taking her stuff?”

Historia looks away, biting her bottom lip. Apparently your question hit a nerve. “We’re not really sure, actually. She just…disappeared after work one morning, two weeks ago. We never saw her again.”

“You’re leaving out key information, Historia,” Ymir butts in, “she should have never started fucking that guy in the Ackerman clan. That got her killed, I have no doubt.”

“Ackerman clan?”

“Ymir…hush!” Historia nudges Ymir and attempts to push her away, to no success.

“You mean, Hange didn’t tell you? We are employees of Club Azure, but this club is “protected” by the Ackerman Clan, one of the most powerful yakuza clans in Neo Tokyo. Hange might own the place, but they pull the strings. Getting involved with them is bad news.” She gives you a foreboding look. “If you see them, keep your distance.”

“Are they in here often?”

“Of course they are. They’re always skulking around, checking in on their products.”

Historia clicks her tongue, a warning to Ymir. “They’re not that bad. Just smile, be polite, and pour their drinks and you won’t have any problems with them.” Ignoring Ymir's eye roll, she pulls out a dress and hands it to you. “Here, try this on.”

You start taking your clothes off, and the women around you stop and stare. Ymir laughs, and you notice that each of her teeth have been shaped to a sharp point.

“You’re just as normal as normal can be, aren’t you? Not a single augmentation.” She walks around you as you stand there, naked and bare as their eyes judge you. “All your…parts are…real?” she asks, lifting up your arm.

You pull away and grip the dress closer to you. “Augmentations are rare and expensive on earth.”

Ymir smirks and her carnivorous teeth flash. “Well…everybody has a kink. I’m sure someone will be interested in you.”

“Ymir, that’s enough!” Historia huffs, pushing the tall, freckled woman away. By then, you’ve shimmied into the garment Historia chose for you. The tight, red dress fits your form perfectly, falling off the shoulders and highlighting your collarbone and breasts. It’s long, but a slit cuts all the way up the top of your thigh. You’ve never worn anything so elegant.

Historia looks you up and down. “A little tight, but all the better.” She pulls you over to a dressing table. “Now for the finishing touches.” She takes out some makeup and starts applying powders and creams to your face. “Hange probably wants to keep you as human as possible, so we’ll keep it simple.”

Her version of simple was very different from what you were imagining, as she adorns your cheeks with pink blush and your lips with a dark red lipstick. Your hair cascades in waves across your shoulders.

When you look in the mirror you barely recognize yourself. 

“Is that me?” you ask, touching your radiant skin.

“I just enhanced what you already have. Hopefully, it’ll be good enough.” She stands and gives you another once-over, crossing her arms. “You’re still gonna stand out, but surely someone will be interested in you.”

Ymir walks by and chuckles. “This is gonna be interesting.” You scowl at her while she smiles smugly. “See you two out there,” she says, before sauntering away.

Historia takes you by the hand and leads you down a dark hall. Music is already reverberating through the walls and you can hear voices and laughter amidst the clink of glasses, which amplifies as she opens the door.

The bar is dimly lit, illuminated by a ceiling with an array of twinkling lights meant to look like the night sky. There are tables and booths with plush upholstery, some meant for larger groups while others are more private and intimate. A small stage is set up in the corner with a holographic band playing, and on the opposite end of the room, a long drink bar manned by Hange and another bartender. 

And dispersed throughout are men, some young, some old, but all well-dressed, sitting and drinking with a hostess or two.

“At a hostess bar, it’s not our bodies that are for sale, but our time and attention,” Historia says, leading you through the room. “They can request a certain girl, but otherwise, we are partnered with them as they come in.”

The two of you end up at the bar, where Historia gestures for you to sit. “For the time that they’re here, it’s our job to make the guest feel like they are wanted and important - we laugh at all their stupid jokes, listen to their problems at work or at home, or just help them to get their mind off things with conversation.”

Your eyes dart from table to table, taking note of the hostesses pouring drinks, laughing and leaning into their guests, playing drinking games, or having lively talks. One girl gets up and walks over to the stage, singing as the band plays a popular song that everyone at the table seems to know.

“And that’s it?” you ask. “There’s not…more…that goes on between the guest and the hostess?”

“You mean sex?” Historia leans her chin on her hand. “Hange forbids us having sexual relationships with our guests.” Her eyes dart over to Hange as they put some drinks on a tray. “Isn’t that right?”

“Absolutely correct, my beautiful turtle dove,” they reply. “Prostitution can be procured at other clubs, but not at my fine establishment. You can flirt, make eyes, touch…” their bright eyes suddenly become serious, “but no sex.”

A wave of relief washes over you when you hear this. It’s overwhelming enough to know that you’ll have men ogling you, expecting entertainment and companionship. At least that’s all it’s expected to be. 

While Hange busies themself with making another cocktail, Historia leans toward you and whispers, “It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t happen, though.” 

That doesn’t surprise you; if a hostess’ whole job is to flirt all night long, at some point the lines must get blurred with certain customers. And you can probably make a substantial bit of extra money in taking a relationship beyond the confines of this club. 

But that’s not why you’re here.

Hange pushes a tray of glasses and a bottle of alcohol across the bar to the two of you. “Ok, ladies, it’s showtime. Take these drinks over to table 12.”

Historia glances over to the table before taking the tray. “Ugh, it’s Lovof. Haven’t seen him here for a while.”

“Who’s Lovof?”

“A city councilman. We get a lot of politicians here.” 

The two of you make your way to the table where Lobov is sitting with two other men. You wipe your sweaty palms on your dress, feeling more nervous the closer you get.

“Just smile and pour drinks. I’ll take care of the rest,” Historia whispers, just before making it to the table. “Lobov! It’s been so long, I thought you’d forgotten about us!”

She slides into the booth next to Lobov, a true thing of beauty as she smiles and bats her big, blue eyes. Her skin sparkles even more under the dimmed lighting, making her look like a true angel.

You slide in on the opposite side, sitting next to Lovof’s colleagues, but neither of them pay any attention to you as Historia takes the bottle from its chilled container and pours the golden liquid into a sparkling glass. It’s only until Historia gestures to you that they look your way, a curious look on each of their faces.

“And this is Luna.” Historia’s voice is sweet and soft, matching her angelic persona. “It’s her first night, so I’m showing her how to be a good hostess.”

“Well then, she’s learning from the very best,” Lobov says, his snake-like eyes slinking from Historia to look you over. 

One of the men squints, then takes off his glasses to clean them with his shirt. “This plain-looking thing? Where in the galaxy did you find her?” he comments with a crude chuckle before turning away.

They’re bored with you already.

Get it together.

Don’t fuck this up.

You swallow hard, then take the bottle from Historia and pour a drink for the two unimpressed men.

Smile. Put on the mask.

“The story of why I’m not augmented is quite a tale,” your voice drips with flirtatious intrigue, “but perhaps it’s a tale better left for our second bottle, when I’m a little less nervous.”

The man next to you raises an eyebrow as you raise your glass. “In the meantime, I want to know everything there is to know about you fine gentlemen.” You smile, eyes sparkling in such a way that they almost rival Historia’s. “Kanpai.”

Lovof’s looks of confusion change to amusement as he joins you in raising his glass, the rest reflecting his actions.

“Kanpai!” the table responds.

By the third bottle, everyone is buzzed and relaxed. The alcohol coursing through you is helping you to feel less nervous, and has given you a confidence you’d only pretended to have before. The man next to you, Gelgar, has completely forgotten his other colleagues and is focused solely on you, while the other two are enraptured by Historia.

The attention makes you uncomfortable, everything within you wanting to escape this man’s gaze. But this is your job, you remind yourself. 

You’re not the same person you were on Earth. 

So you mirror your fellow hostess, pouring their drinks and leaning forward as they tell you about an upcoming election. Most of the time you have no idea what they're talking about, but you smile and nod, feigning to be enraptured by their words.

You’re good at pretending. You’ve been doing it your whole life.

There’s a glazed look in the men’s eyes and Historia shoots you a glance that tells you it’s time for them to call it a night. As the two of you escort them out of the bar, Lovof suddenly stops, turning to you.

“My darling, you never told us - why are you not augmented?”

Ah. You forgot you’d mentioned that. 

“Well…” you begin as you’re walking with them out of the club, “...my father was the leader of a cult and my mother was one of his many wives. It was commanded that his children never be augmented, as doing so would be an affront to God, who made the body. No needle or knife must ever blemish my skin.” 

A smile crawls across his face. “Intriguing. Absolutely intriguing…” You feel his eyes rove over your body in a way that feels violating. “I’d like to drink with you again, Luna.”

“She would be honored.,” Historia says, placing her hand on your back and guiding you to bow with her. “Please come visit us again soon.”

You both deeply bow then wave as the trio drunkenly walk to the black vehicle that pulled up for them. Only until they are out of view do you both turn away.

Historia takes your arm. “That story…is it really true?”

“Does it matter?”

Historia lets out an angelic laugh. “I think you’re going to do just fine here.” She walks arm-in-arm with you back into the bar. “You did well for your first time, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. I was nervous the entire time.” You allow yourself to smile - the first real smile you’ve had all night.

Historia’s words of praise flow through you as freely as the copious amounts of alcohol you’ve already consumed, both of them giving you courage as you stroll back into your new workplace. 

This isn’t too bad, you think to yourself.

You can do this.

You carry a newfound boldness as you and Historia walk up to Hange, who is waiting at the door. There’s a concerned, serious look in their eyes, much different from the happy, go-lucky persona you’d initially met. 

Hange pulls you both aside. “They’re back, Historia, and causing a ruckus. I’m sorry to do this to you and Luna, but will you two help with damage control for a few minutes while I call for some backup?” They press a small silver button on the back of their ear and walk away, not even waiting for a response.  As if either of you had a choice in the matter. 

You must have been too focused on your table’s patrons to realize the growing noisiness of the table in the center of the club. Now, it’s hard to notice anything else.  

Even from across the room, you can sense the chaotic energy of the group, a stark difference from the customers you’d just said goodbye to. The men are much younger than Lovof and his associates, their tacky suits and bright hair colors a stark contrast to the politicians you’d just entertained. They slap the table and yell curse words at each other, earning sideway glances from the others surrounding them. Empty bottles of alcohol litter their table; one of the men tries to milk the last few drops from one, but when there’s nothing left, he frowns.

“Oi! Another bottle! Make that two!” he curls his lip in disgust as he looks at his comrades slumped around the table. “This place has the shittiest service.”

Your newfound boldness shrinks with each step to their table.

“We just need to get them to settle down and then get them to leave,” Historia whispers, handing you a bottle. “Be polite, but don’t let them manhandle you.”

You put the mask back on, smiling as you and Historia both sit on either side of the booth.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Historia says, her voice still ringing calm and clear.

An arm immediately wraps around your shoulders the second you sit down, pulling you forcefully into him.

“Look at this - two more! We must be getting the V.I.P. treatment today, boys,” a man with long brown hair and green eyes shouts over the rest of the crowd.

Ever the essence of politeness, Historia pours the alcohol, a superficial smile never leaving her face.

“It’s our honor to serve you here at Club Azure,” is her meek reply. 

The two other hostesses copy Historia, just as you had done earlier, but behind their smiles are eyes that want to escape the situation as soon as possible. Although this is your first night and you still have much to learn, something feels different about this group of men; they are loud and arrogant, and their way of speaking is crude. It’s as if their entire goal is to make everyone uncomfortable. They continue to demand more alcohol and paw at the hostesses, downing bottle after bottle, their appetites insatiable.

All the while, the brunette man continues to clutch at you, his grip tight on your shoulder, keeping you from moving one inch. His suit reeks of alcohol and tobacco, and his breath is even worse when he finally decides to turn and speak to you. 

“I’ve never seen you here before.” 

He’s young, and there’s a wildness in his eyes, warning you to stay on his good side.

You attempt to shift away from him, but his arm is stronger than it looks. So you put on the mask and smile faintly. “I’m new. The name’s Luna.”

Seeming to be the ringleader of the group, you hope that light conversation will keep him preoccupied enough for help to arrive.

Whatever help that may be.

“Lunaaaaa…” he repeats, his tone heavy and foreboding. “You’re a non-aug.” He shifts his attention back to the other men at the table. “Look at this - we got ourselves a non-aug.”

You assume that means you’re not augmented. Will it be an intriguing curiosity, as it was in Lovof’s case? 

Or something far worse?

The men hoot and holler words that you aren’t familiar with, but you don’t need to be fluent in the Martian dialect to know the meanings of their slurs.

The other women look at you, brows knit, bodies frozen, each hesitant to intercede.

“Tell me, Luna,” his green eyes darken, moving down your body and stopping at the bare leg peeking out of the high slit of your dress, “is every part of you real?”

His grip on your shoulder grows even tighter as his free hand moves up your thigh. “Let’s find out, hm?”

Every fiber of your being is screaming to escape this man’s clutches. Your eyes flash to Historia, who attempts to stand up and walk to you, but is forced back down by one of the men. She sends you a helpless expression that even she is powerless to help you.

But you refuse to be powerless. Not ever again.

So you meet the man’s lustful gaze, and slap him hard across the face.

A look of shock sweeps over him, his pride hurt more than the sting in his cheek.

“Don’t you touch me,” comes your warning, willing your body and voice not to shake.

Time freezes for a moment, not a single person moving a muscle, until - 

– the back of his hand cracks against your cheekbone. 

It takes you a few seconds to realize what just happened, but before you can react, he grabs your face with his hand and forces you to look into his eyes.

“Bitch.” He squeezes tighter. “Do you know who I am?”

“Should I?” you manage to reply, despite the forceful grip on your cheeks.

His eyes fill with rage, getting even greener. “Nobody fucks with the Jaeger clan.”

“Oi.”

You hear a voice behind the two of you, cold as steel.

“Did you hear the lady? Hands off.”

You can’t move your head to see who’s talking, but your assailant does. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Someone who’s about to fuck with the Jaeger clan.”

Suddenly a hand grabs the back of the man’s collar and yanks him up, his body flying over the back of the booth and into another table. There are a few screams but then the club goes silent as all eyes watch what’s transpiring. 

Finally free, you look behind you to see a man in a navy blue suit. He walks closer to the other man, who’s scrambling up from the floor. There’s an incredible size difference between the two; this man in the blue suit is much shorter than the men that are now surrounding him, but it doesn’t seem to faze him in the least. 

Green eyes flash and the three other henchmen barrel towards the shorter man. It only takes a few seconds for two of them to be sprawled on the ground, barely conscious. The third grabs the lapels of his dark blue suit, but a hard knee to his groin has him joining his compatriots on the floor. 

“Bastard..” 

Now the only one standing, the brunette moves his hand toward the inner pocket of his jacket.

Something flashes into the hand of the smaller man. It seems to be a knife of some kind.

How did it appear so quickly?

“You pull out that piece and it’ll be the last thing your hand ever does,” the shorter man warns, his eyes laser-focused.

The other three men scurry off the floor and towards the club’s exit, but not before one of them grabs his friend by the shoulder. “Come on Eren, let’s get out of here. Your brother’s gonna kill us if this gets worse.”

The tall brunette man smirks then backs away with his hands up, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him.

“This isn’t over.” His eyes then flit to you as he straightens his suit jacket. “Fucking bitch,” he spits, before turning to leave.

It’s as if the whole club takes a collective sigh once the four men are finally gone. Historia is immediately at your side.

“Oh my god, Luna, are you alright? I’m so sorry..”

You can hear her words and feel her gentle hands touching your face, but all your attention is on the man standing before you. He buttons his suit jacket and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing back the few strands that came loose during the scuffle.

“Thank you so much, um…” your words hang in the air, waiting for a name.

His steel blue eyes look into yours - not at your body, not at the bruise you’re sure is growing by the second - but deep into your eyes, before looking away. 

It’s the first time you’ve felt someone look at you like you’re a person, not some oddity.

“Levi,” he finally answers in a low, cool voice. “And don’t thank me for doing my job.”

Before you can say more, he’s turned his back, disappearing into the darkness of the club. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Glossary of terms:

Yakuza - Japanese mafia

Kanpai - cheers!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

next chapter/masterlist/AO3

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[daddy-deathslinger]

Thanks I hate it!! But I love you and your writing so may I request a pt2 of the escaping the realms one you did? Maybe where they find the reader??

I’m happy you were tortured as much by the picture, as I was making it! >:D And thank you so much for the kind words!! ❤️ One part 2 coming right up!

The Deathslinger searches for his S/O after the Entity spat him back out 

Sundown had long come and gone. Night was approaching steadily and without mercy, covering the silent town in darkness. The chilly night air cooled Caleb off, it was just what he needed right now. He felt frustrated beyond words, his heart pounding in his chest and his fists clenched shut. Another day wasted. With a deep sigh, he untied his horse and got up in the saddle. Spending another night at the inn was pointless, he wasn’t going to get any sleep this night either. He might as well be on the roads, on the lookout, than tossing and turning in a cheap bed.

“Let’s go, Polly”, he muttered to his horse, and they rode out of the small shithole town, hopefully never to return.

Caleb despised this place, he had only been here for one thing. His mission. And again he had failed. It had been one year since he was spat out from Hell, one year since he had last seen you, heard your voice. He was on a mission to find you, but so far he had been unsuccessful. And every day without you pained him more and more. He had cut ties with the Hellshire gang, left them to fend for themselves, find a new leader, whatever. He needed to do this alone, he knew that. But some days, the most lonesome days, when solitude hit like a knife, part of him felt like giving up. Turning himself in, going out with a bang in a shootout, anything to make it all end. But thinking of you always kept him going. 

“Might as well rest a bit now that we’re out of that dreadful town”, he said to Polly, and pulling her to a halt he quickly got off. 

He decided to start a fire, keep himself warm and do some thinking. Polly needed rest tonight, even if he didn’t. He built a quick fireplace and got some twigs and branches gathered, and soon a small fire was cackling along. Caleb sat down by the fire, warming his hands, thinking of you. He had searched the whole country, it felt like. Day and night, with very little rest. And yet, you were nowhere to be found. He knew it was a long shot, asking to find you here, in the States. You might not even have been released from Hell, what if you were still there, being tortured? Caleb shook his head to get rid of the thoughts, the memories from that place. He needed to find you, and soon. As he sat there in the night, alone with his thoughts, he could hear something in the far distance. Hooves. A group of horses, galloping across the desert in the middle of the night. Caleb got up from the ground, his gaze fixated on the horizon where he could hear the sound. There he saw them, a gang riding along the road. Five or six of them. What on earth were they doing out here, now? Caleb thought he was the only one who couldn’t sleep these days. As the gang got closer to him, he thought fast. 

“Howdy there!” he yelled out, waving to seem more approachable. “Care to help a stranger out here?”

They outnumbered him, he couldn’t rob them. But he could ask them if they’d seen anything, heard anything. Any leads he could get. To his gratitude, he saw the silhouettes change their routes slightly so they could approach him directly, and soon they slowed to a halt in front of him. In the light of Caleb’s campfire, he took a quick look at the gang in front of him. A bunch of youngsters all of them, some of them barely out of their twenties by the looks of it.

“What you doin’ out here alone?” one of the boys asked. “Lots of trouble along these roads.”

Caleb didn’t respond, he was busy studying a curious baggage on one of the horses backs. It was big, dark, and if he wasn’t mistaken, he thought he could see it move in the shadows. Kidnappers, eh? Well, he was far from above that, so he would let them be on their merry way soon enough.

“Just wondering if you boys have seen a lone person on yer travels? About this tall, hair this long…”

He was interrupted by one of the boys laughing. 

“Mister, we’ve seen a lot of people during our travels! Hard to keep track of ‘em all!”

Caleb swallowed a grunt and tried keeping his cool. Suddenly, he was struck by a feeling, and as he saw the person/baggage on the horseback moving slightly again, he felt his heart skip a beat. 

“Mind if I take a look at that person of yours? Can’t be too sure these days”, he said, pointing towards the baggage. 

At this, the boy who seemed to be the leader shook his head.

“No can do, mister. We got business to attend to, if you’ll excuse us. We ain’t seen nothing and no one. Let’s go, boys!”

Caleb quickly got out a revolver from his coat pocket and aimed it at the leader.

“Wasn’t exactly a request, I’m afraid.”

The boys looked at eachother, then laughed in unison. 

“What, you’re gonna take on all of us with that thing?”

“Crazy old coot!”

Caleb grunted and put away his pistol.

“If that’s how it’s gotta be…” he murmured, searching the bag on his horseback. 

The boys’ laughters were cut short as he pulled out his Redeemer and aimed it at the leader.

“Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way”, he said, a slight smile on his lips.

“We ain’t scared of you!” one of the boys shouted, and the next second a loud bang rang through the night.

The hook was caught nicely by the leader’s shoulder, and in one go Caleb had him falling off his horse and struggling for his life as the chain pulled him in closer to his perpetrator.

“Fuck, it’s him!” one of the boys shouted and turned his horse around to flee.

Caleb released the wounded leader and took aim for the boy with the baggage on his horseback. 

“Fuck this!” the boy screamed and turned heels as well.

Just as he was about to gallop away, Caleb aimed a shot right next to the horse to frighten it, and to his triumph the horse rose on its hind legs, making the baggage fall to the ground before it galloped away with its brave knight in the saddle. The rest of the boys were soon to follow, none of them daring to take up a fight against the Deathslinger himself. The wounded leader got up on his horse and rode away as well, and Caleb let him. He had more important business now, approaching the tied up person still on the ground. As he got closer, his stomach curled in on itself, and he felt something he hadn’t felt in years. A longing, so strong it was going to rip him apart. He quickened his pace, and knelt before the tied up figure. They had a bag on their head, and with shivering hands Caleb removed it… And as he saw who was underneath it, his stomach punched a hole in itself and his heart stopped in his chest. It couldn’t be…

“Y/N…?” he whispered, just staring at you.

You were gagged, so he quickly removed the gag so you could speak.

“Caleb!” you screamed, tears trickling down your face. “Caleb, I can’t believe it’s you!”

Caleb stared at you for a couple more seconds, then he shook his head and untied you quickly. He helped you up from the cold ground, and the two of you embraced like you hadn’t seen each other in… well, a year.

“Y/N…” Caleb whispered, feeling the tears burn behind his eyelids. “It cannot be…”

For so long he had searched. So many sleepless nights without you by his side, so much anger, so much grief. And here you were. Or was this a trick of the mind? Caleb had to release you, take a look at you. You looked tired, heavy bags underneath your eyes and tears streaming down your face. He caressed your face, kissed you, held you again.

“Y/N, I can’t believe it.”

“Caleb, I missed you so, so much…” you whispered into his hair, hugging him tightly. 

“Come, sit down by the fire”, Caleb said, and on shaky legs both of you walked up to the campfire and sat down.

Caleb got out a blanket from his bag and swept it around your shoulders. You dried your eyes and curled up in his arms as he sat down next to you. Neither of you said a word. Caleb was dying to know how you were here, what had happened to you, but for now he just wanted this moment to stay like this. You, in his arms, in front of a warm campfire, the crickets chirping in the night. Caleb let out a content sigh and relaxed for the first time in a year.

The Oni searches for his S/O after the Entity spat him back out

Flesh. Blood. Bones being broken, their cracking noise echoing through Kazan’s head. It was all a red mess, a red, bloody mess. And Kazan loved it. He made them all pay for what they had done to him, he made them regret ever taking you from him. As the screams eventually died down, Kazan was left standing victorious amongst the corpses of the villagers. His trembling breath was all that could be heard in the night, his bloody fists still shaking from the adrenaline. He had defeated them all, but where were you? Were they hiding you somewhere? He let out a desperate roar in the night, but to no use. You didn’t reply. His adrenaline rush slowly fading and being replaced by anxiety, Kazan started searching the village. He went into every house, every cellar, tearing up beds and flipping over tables. Nothing. He knew you could still be trapped in the other place, that place where blood and torture were everyday things. The place he had been at, before he woke up here. Shaking his head, he removed those thoughts from there. You had to be here as well, you just had to. So he continued his stubborn search throughout the village.

The last place he checked was the emperor’s palace. It was big, but somehow Kazan knew his way around here. He checked every room, and when he ventured down into the dungeons, a strange feeling grabbed a hold of his heart. A feeling he hadn’t felt in ages, a feeling of… longing. He didn’t know what this feeling meant, but he urged on his exploration of the palace. The prison dungeons were dark and wet, and Kazan’s heavy footsteps echoed through the silent halls. He checked every cell, empty besides some skeletons here and there. Prisoners, living out their final days in this rotten place. As Kazan was nearing the last cell, he let out a frustrated sigh, clawing at his face. If he didn’t find you… Suddenly, a sound could be heard. It was faint, merely a mumble in the dungeon halls, but it sent Kazan running towards the last prison cell. Somehow, that faint sound made him think of… You. There you were, tied up in the corner of the cell, sitting on the cold stone ground. Kazan’s breath got stuck in his throat, the world started spinning and he had to grab ahold of the heavy iron door of the cell. Was this real, or a trick of the mind? You lifted your head to have a look at whoever had stopped outside of your cell, and as you saw Kazan standing outside the door, your eyes widened.

“Kazan…? Is that really you?”

When Kazan heard your voice, all breath was stolen from him. This was real, it had to be. Quickly, Kazan took a more secure grip of the iron door’s handle and pulled it. It didn’t budge. 

“It’s no use, Kazan, they locked me in here. I-I don’t know which one of the villagers has the key…”

Kazan let out an angry grunt and pulled the door handle again. Nothing happened. Taking a step back away from the door, he grabbed his Kanabo from his back. He was so close to getting to hold you again, he was not going to stop now. He gathered all his strength and anger, and with one mighty swing he tore the door open with his Kanabo, and the loud bang echoed through the halls. As the dust settled, Kazan approached you. He quickly untied you, and the next second you were in his strong embrace, hugging him like your life depended on it.

“Kazan, I’m so glad you found me…” you whispered, and Kazan felt his anger turn into a warmer feeling in his chest.

He hugged you desperately, never wanting to let go of your warm body ever again. He had found you, and he was never going to let anything happen to you again. No one would ever hurt you, he would make sure of it. Come what may.

The Pig searches for her S/O after the Entity spat her back out

Warnings: angst, gore

Amanda’s heart was hammering in her chest. The gun felt heavy in her shaky hands. She had never felt this scared in her life, but she had never been more alert. She needed to find you, no matter what. She was making her way down a dimly lit corridor, a corridor she knew far too well. It was here that she had set up Jeff’s tests. Now it was empty, save for the clutter and random machinery parts. This old factory still gave her the creeps, she couldn’t deny that. Even more now, when she was searching for you, not knowing what was going on or if you were safe. She had searched through empty rooms and halls, not seeing any trace of you. She had torn off a piece of her shirt to tie up the bleeding wound on her neck, it helped a bit. In one of the rooms, she’d found a box of bullets to her immense relief, so now her gun wasn’t useless at least. She hadn’t yet dared call out your name, but now she was becoming desperate.

“Y/N?” she yelled as she entered another empty room.

The stench of dried blood and guts hit her nostrils like a fist to the face, and she almost vomited on the spot. Gun outstretched in front of her, pressing her face against her shoulder, she took a deep breath to try and gather herself. She could not be weak now, she had to remain strong for you. Quickly leaving the room, she cast a last glance over at the torture device filled with human remains before she left. Had to be the drunk driver. Amanda continued with shaky yet determined legs, the loss of blood slowing her down a bit. Where were you? As she approached yet another closed door, probably hiding another empty room, she suddenly got a strange feeling. A feeling she hadn’t felt in ages, a feeling of a strange longing. A longing so strong, it was going to rip out her stomach. In one quick move, she forced the rusted door open and immediately was faced with a nightmare. There you were. Strung up from the ceiling, unconscious. 

“Y/N!” Amanda cried out, dropping her gun to the ground and running up to you.

This woke you up, and you opened a pair of groggy eyes. Very soon your grogginess was exchanged for fear, as you noticed you were tied up.

“Amanda…?”

“Y/N! Are you hurt?”

Tears were burning behind Amanda’s eyelids, her heart hammering away in her chest like a possessed drum. You were hooked into a device holding you upright, dangling from the ceiling. Around your chest was a leather harness, keeping in place the metal contraptions, and you were bleeding quite heavily from a wound in your chest. The angel trap. Amanda knew this trap, because she had designed it. 

“Amanda, help me, please!” you screamed, as it seemed to dawn on you how you were trapped.

Amanda nodded, silent tears streaming down her face. This couldn’t be happening. Suddenly she noticed something in the front pocket of your jeans. A note sticking out. She quickly grabbed it, unfolding it with shaky hands.

“You created inescapable traps.”

That was all that was written on the note, and the handwriting was impossible to decipher. Amanda let out a cry of fear, looking back up at you. This couldn’t be. 

“Amanda? What’s wrong? P-Please, help me out of this!”

Amanda tried to collect herself, she tried to think. Who had put you here? It couldn’t have been John, he was dead. Was it the Entity? There had to be an escape, there must be. She had designed this trap, she knew how it worked. You also know it’s inescapable, a voice in her head said, but she ignored it. She had to ignore it. Quickly drying her tears with the back of her hand, she started studying the contraption with her hands.

“I-It’s okay, love, I’m gonna get you out of this. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll get you out of this”, she said as she studied the harness a bit closer. 

But could she really promise that? Shaking her head to get rid of the thoughts, she forced herself to stay focused on her mission. She noticed the wound again, the wound bleeding from your chest. But something was strange with it, it didn’t seem to be related at all to the harness. And then Amanda noticed that the harness wasn’t even attached to your ribcage. A wave of unimaginable relief washed over her and she almost laughed out loud in joy.

“Honey, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay!” she said, looking up at you. “We just need to find the key.”

“It’s there”, you said, pointing with your gaze in front of you.

Amanda followed your gaze and saw a small jar hanging from a chain from the ceiling. The acid jar.

“I just need to get the key from there and we’ll-”

“No!” Amanda yelled, a bit louder than she had intended to. “I’ll get it.”

“Amanda-”

“I’ll get it, Y/N!” Amanda pressed on, trying to ignore her own shaky voice.

She was the one who had gotten you here, by being your partner, so she was gonna get the key. Quickly climbing up on the contraption you were dangling from, she put her hand into the jar of acid without hesitating. Burning pain exploded in her hand and spread throughout her body, but she persisted. Screaming in agony, she felt her fingers grabbing the key and holding onto it for dear life and she pulled her hand out of the jar. 

“You got it! Amanda, you got it!” you screamed, relief audible in your voice.

Amanda took deep breaths to try and calm down. If you don’t give the pain power, it isn’t as bad, she told herself. Deep breath in, deep breath out. She didn’t look at her hand, as she shakily started to unlock the lock that held the harness together. In a blur, she saw the lock get opened, and you were quick to get out of the harness. Amanda wanted to check if you were hurt anywhere else besides your chest wound, but the world was getting blurrier by the second. She had to sit down, gulping air into her lungs intensely. 

“Amanda!”

She felt you kneel down beside her, holding her in a warm, safe embrace. You were safe, that was all that mattered now.

[gracilissart]

mind infodumping about Seamus and Seraphina? I love them both 🖤

WOAH !!!! HI !!!!!! yes. yes of course. I would love to yap on endlessly about these two mfs

I'm unsure what exactly it is that you'd like to know? I wouldn't even know where to start because Seamus and Seraphina both are a convoluted mess and I have way too much unorganised info on them 😭😭😭 however. I'll try give some basic info about their methods to give you a start 🫡 to keep the post preview short I'll put the given info below a read more cut.

Seamus Wrynn

Seamus always struggled to connect with people. he never quite felt as though he was a 'person' in the way he understood other people to be, and thus felt in return there was no way for any person to fully get him. nobody but his older sister, Eileen.

the relationship between his sister and himself was innately abusive. what initially came across as overprotectiveness on Eileen's behalf later grew darker, more sordid. growing ill and bedridden made her physically dependent on Seamus' care, but the dynamic only strengthened the hold she had on him. the psychological and sexual abuse slowly warped Seamus' already-fragile outlook on love, sexuality, and his theories on how the world around him works.

the death of Eileen made him a ticking time bomb; it was only a matter of time before he did something bad, not just to those around him but to himself as well. an apprenticeship under a photographer who took a particular interest in him set up the perfect storm; Seamus now had an outlet.

his photography is a glimpse into his outlook. there is a vision, but what that may be grows increasingly unclear the deeper you try to dig and analyse. it's everything, it's nothing, it is meaningless violence but also is all-encompassing. the constant is death, violence and eroticism wrapped into a single gallery of depravity.

for how much it is his gimmick I realise I have actually tackled his body of work very little on the blog so hopefully I can get around to depicting it more 🤞 whether it be through art or writing. teehee!

Seraphina Shaw

for as long as she could remember, Seraphina was angry. violent and angry, and for most of her life she had been unable to pinpoint why she was always so angry.

the answers seemed simple at first; she lived in shithole 90's-00's Glasgow, had a drunken shithead dad who oftentimes couldn't bring himself to care about what she was getting herself up to and the sight of heroin and what it did to people was unavoidable. to be angry at the world for such unfair circumstances was only natural.

especially when it turned out you not only were pan, but a trans woman and suffered under the effects of albinism.

however, it didn't explain why she felt so violently towards those who didn't wrong her, and why making others hurt - despite her not wanting to give in to it - excited her so.

working with Seamus as a human unravelled these repressed urges and made her, to some degree, understand. understand not just Seamus' twisted vision (although not fully) but understand more about herself. in her eyes there was no point in pretending she ever was or will be a good person, so why try? why do that when it feels so much better to embrace evil?

it took her time to really see eye to eye with Seamus; he still did pull a lot of things that could be considered nothing short of traumatic, which deeply complicated the way they interact. nowadays, they're amicable.

[biracialbayareabuffoon]

BBAB - Introduction

I am not quite sure when San Francisco became my prison. After all, I had as a toddler grown up happily going to La Boheme, watching the viejitos playing chess, smacking their smooth hands on timers, a ritual unknown to me at the time. I was content with the plastic chess matts, the scent of tobacco filling the air at nine in the morning, coffee and smoke. While I never discovered my taste for coffee until I began to work security decades later, those smells were always held close to me, a nostalgic yearning to stay with that trinity, old geezers, coffee, and cigarettes. Those were the good days. That is not to say San Francisco is entirely bad. I actively despise people who in bad faith consider SF to be a “liberal shithole”. Those people can go to hell.

The San Francisco I loved was viewed through a child’s eyes, unknowing, but fortunately happy. It was a time before I learned unfortunate facts about the world too early, about the consequences of my heritage. About the deaths of family too soon, the loss of community, about the unraveling of all of the dynamics I had grown happy and accustomed to. I still intend to return one day, after I have allowed the wounds dotting myself to heal, and hopefully scar over. However, my heart still bleeds for what was once lost.

I’d like to share a memory of mine for the next few weeks as an experiment to see how other people might resonate with them, or perhaps just to keep an online journal of my attempts to make sense of surviving the white water rapids that is San Francisco. I hope this brings interesting conversations! :) 

[solarwonux]

Payment Due! || Jeon Wonwoo (6/7)

Pairing: Camboy!Wonwoo x f!reader || sex worker au!

w.c: 10.1k (I’m sorry lolol)

Genre: 18+ smut, fluff, angst

Warnings: angst, smut, mentions of weed and axe body spray (yes this is a warning) teasing LOTS OF IT, mentions of sexting, a bet, smut, suggestive, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum eating, penetrative sex, semi-protected sex, slight cum play, mentions of squirting.  

Synopsis: HYBE U one of the top highly prestigious universities in the country. A shithole, a total money making scam that liked to sucked the life out of its students. Not being able to meet the funds to pay for your tuition your best friend lets you in a little secret. A way he’s been keeping afloat for years now, easy money. The problem is you want in.

Note: Hello everyone, thank you so much for being so patient with me these last two weeks. Payment Due! is coming to an end and I’m a little sad but also happy, but I’ll get more into that when I upload the last part/epilogue next week and the ending ment (hopefully I can get it up in time) This was one of my fav chapters to write tbh. (I feel like I say that for all the chapters I’ve written lmao) ANYWAY, enjoy, let me know your thoughts please and thank you.xxxxx

Masterlist || prev || next

You look beautiful today ;)

The butterflies in your stomach erupt the second you read Wonwoo’s text and instantly you look up at him. Your bright eyes find his hiding behind his new black frames. A little part of you dies, paying your kind respects to his round specs. The fantasy of them sliding off his nose while he’s in between your legs, dies with it. Buried deep in the confinements of his bedside drawer, while you conjure up a new fantasy, one that involves his new dark frames and it makes your body heat up. 

New glasses? I like them, miss the other ones though :(

You set your phone down, returning your attention to the screen of your laptop. The word document sitting untouched as you tried to come up with a new topic sentence for your final paragraph.

Graduation was a week away. Three days to be exact, so not really a week away, but that’s what it felt like. Staying away from Wonwoo was a lot harder than you thought. Everything reminded you of him, from the stray cat you found on your way home from work on a Saturday night - in which of course you named her Lilac after Wonwoo’s favorite flower - to the One Direction song Joshua showed you when you slept over last week. 

It was driving you insane, especially because Jeonghan loved to remind you how stupid the two of you were being. 

“If you guys want to fuck, just fuck. Stop beating around the bush it’s giving me blue balls and I have sex with my boyfriends at least two times a week.” He drunkenly stated after four margaritas’s a month ago when you had gone over for margarita night. A national holiday only Joshua, Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Maya celebrated. 

“Yeah, dude, I’ve been waiting for the moment Wonwoo stops being stupid for years and I’m met with this.” Maya, grumbles blowing out air, making the strands of her fiery red hair that had fallen over her right eye take flight only for it to land against the tip of her nose again. “I say we make a bet on who makes the first move. By the end of this week, they’ll be at it like rabbits.” She lifts her glass, proposing the toast, making the three men yell out their predictions. 

Little did they know Wonwoo and you had been texting minimally every day, with the added naughty sext. You had never once made the actual effort to take nudes. But ever since Jeonghan’s Nude 101 lecture, you had started too. And damn, did it turn you on beyond belief. Most nights, if neither of you were slumped with final assignments, projects, or papers. The two of you would spend a good portion of it teasing one another, through tiny blue chat bubbles. It would start innocently, like now. Only for it to increase into slightly more suggestive statements. Until you nor Wonwoo could take it anymore. 

One moment you’d be giggling against the pillow fortes on your bed, and then the next your hand would sneakily make its way down your pants. Imagining his fingers. Repeating the dirty words he had texted you in your head while you imagined him doing everything he said he would do to you. 

Needless to say, those were the best orgasms you had ever been able to give yourself. And you were damn good at pleasing yourself. But the relentless push and pull had the two of you on your toes. Counting down the days until graduation. Until he got to buy you your favorite meal at the diner, already on the house because Maya wanted to see her ship finally sail. 

Three days, that’s all you needed to wait. Three days and two nights. But with the way, Wonwoo looked now. New black frames, tight workout shirt, sitting slightly below his belly button, showing off the silver barbells, the ridges of his abdomen, and his biceps. His cargo pants hanging low on his hips, the band of his black underwear peeking through. By the show of his smirk, you could tell he did this on purpose. Spent an extra hour in front of his bathroom mirror, trying on outfits like a teenage girl getting ready to impress her crush on the first day of junior year of high school. You knew he purposely visited the cafe, ordered his usual black coffee with one pump of chocolate syrup because he knew you would be sitting there working on your final assignment that was due on Saturday morning, an hour before the graduation ceremony. 

This wasn’t fair. 

Just then, before you could spiral further into the gutter your phone rings. Quickly, almost embarrassingly too quick you pick it up. An insignificant frown appears on your face when it’s Jeonghan’s name on your phone screen and not Wonwoo’s. 

No contact for two months? Did Cheol win? Pls, I can’t lose, my reputation is on the line. !!!

You roll your eyes and place your phone down, screen down, and look up. Both Wonwoo and Jeonghan are looking in your direction. Jeonghan with a suspicious glint behind his tired eyes. His hand protruded with Wonwoo’s drink, slightly annoyed because he was holding up the line. He clears his throat, making Wonwoo jump, his hungry eyes leave you and for the first time in a while, you feel completely naked now that he isn't looking at you anymore. 

They both exchange a few words. Jeonghan’s arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed in determination and you know he’s interrogating Wonwoo which makes you groan in annoyance. Your newfound friends seem to have trouble minding their own business. For weeks now they have been secretly meeting up, every Wednesday after Jeonghan’s closing shift in one of the classrooms along the hallways connected to the Campus Cafe. Their sole purpose is to discuss anything related to the bet they had going on.

Joshua had lost a long time ago along with Maya. Their bets fell through when even after a week you and Wonwoo had respectively kept your distance. Seungcheol had a day left to win and Jeonghan was heavily convinced the two of you would make it to Saturday morning. He claimed because after only knowing you for a short period of time, your self-control was stronger than anyone he had ever known.  

In other words, your competitive spirit wouldn’t let you give in, no matter how much you really really really wanted to. 

The only reason you knew about these secret debriefing meetings was because yesterday they dragged Yoongi into them. Maya had supposedly seduced him into a classroom while he was passing by only to be interrogated - his exact words - by the four menaces you had grown to love. Apparently, they needed his quiet brooding expertise, because he was the least suspicious person they knew. 

Little did they know that Yoongi sitting with you during his break and gifting you a strawberry milkshake only made him more suspicious. To add on he asked about your love life. That was the most he had ever said to you, except for your name every time he announced that your drink was ready. And the, have a lovely day that accompanied it every time you took it from his hand. 

Yoongi confessed and apologized after five minutes and the second sip of your drink. Not a second later you were marching up to the counter, thanking your angels that it wasn’t rush hour and the cafe was empty. Except for you, a few other stressed-out students typing furiously on their laptop keyboards. That would’ve been you if you weren’t busy sharing the colorful vocabulary you had adapted while growing up to Jeonghan’s face. 

His glare towards Yoongi was deadly, mumbling a quiet, I should’ve never trusted the weakling, underneath his breath. That earned him a hard flick against his forehead from you, making him apologize to his coworker not a moment later. 

It was an eventful first two hours. You still had one more before your last class of the day, which was roughly an hour and fifteen minutes long, and finally you’d be home. Underneath your bedspread, hopefully sharing a dirty exchange with Wonwoo before bed. 

In hindsight, if you were to tell your friends what was really going on behind the scenes, Minghao would have won a long ass time ago. He wasn’t there when the bet was finalized, but unknowingly Maya had told him. When you clocked in for your shift, the first thing Minghao had told you was that you and Wonwoo wouldn’t last three days without talking to one another. And it had happened exactly like that. Both you and Wonwoo had sworn to secrecy. Changing your names on each other’s phones to not attract any suspicions just in case either of you decided to start your teasing earlier than usual and in the presence of others.  

It was fun not giving in to your friends' antics. Seeing all five of them, now six with the addition of Yoongi made it all the more exciting. And now you were determined not to lose.

He just wanted to remind me of his brother’s birthday tomorrow. 

You finally reply to Jeonghan. Wonwoo now walking to the double doors that connected the hallway of classrooms, double-checking to see if anyone was looking before blowing you a kiss and mouthing that he would text you tonight. You don’t get enough time to respond as inconspicuously as possible because the text tone of your phone makes you jump.

I’ll let it slide but if I find out that I lost a month's worth of einstein bagels, you’re losing your free coffee privileges forever!!!!!!!

Befriending Jeonghan was the greatest and worst thing you have ever done. 

The mailroom was only a small overcrowded room next to the laundry room on the first floor. If it didn’t smell like cheap detergent from the convenience store down the street. It smelled like the aging metal and sweat, sometimes weed if you were lucky. 

This is where you spent your Friday nights, instead of going out. Somehow a month into your not talking to each other but talking to each other, deal; getting the mail at the same time, on the same day every week had become a part of your routine. 

“We aren’t supposed to talk to each other.” You say, inserting the key to your mailbox, opening it and grabbing the stack of mail you purposely let pile up for Friday’s. 

Wonwoo stands next to you copying your movements. “We have one day left.” He rolls his eyes, closing his mailbox. “And that’s not what your text was suggesting earlier.” He side-eyes you, leaning his shoulder against the metal mailboxes, slyly going through his mail. Prolonging the few minutes he has with you.

 “Oh, my cousin is getting married, want to be my date?” He grabs the cream-colored envelope in his fingers and turns it so it’s facing you. 

You smile, closing your mailbox and picking up the same cream-colored envelope, and showing it to him. “Have to see, I might be busy attending my boyfriend’s cousin's wedding.” You shrug, taking your key out of the lock. “I think he’ll be okay with me going with my best friend.” You send him a wink and walk towards the door. 

The yellow light of the overhead lamp flickers. It almost leaves the two of you in complete darkness and that’s something you definitely want to avoid. There was only a day left. And you weren’t about to break your shitty abstinence streak, here, in the mailroom that smells like weed and cool ocean axe body spray.

Wonwoo, though, has other ideas. He’s close to tipping over the iceberg. More so now that you indirectly referred to him as your boyfriend, when he had done a shitty job of asking you to be his through a voice note while he was in mid-orgasm. Your response was a voice note of you laughing - the melodic laugh he hadn’t had the privilege of hearing in person for almost two months made his stomach jump, only for it to plummet into the deep ocean when you declined. He sat there frayed, cum covering his chest, putting a damper on the sweet high he had just experienced. He didn’t answer for what seemed like an hour but really, only five minutes had gone by. 

The next text he got from you, was your promise of a definite yes on graduation night. It weaved the disappointment and sadness away as it was replaced with more impatience. His eagerness kept him up all night that day. The next day Maya made fun of his eye bags under the bright fluorescent lights of the lab classroom. 

He didn’t talk to her for the full two hours, which only made her teasing worse. 

Wonwoo should’ve never introduced her to Jeonghan. Now he had a second Jeonghan in female form making his life miserable every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from two to four. 

“Wait a few more minutes.” He rushes, taking long strides and closing the door to the mailroom. The impact shakes the overhead lamp and finally after months of hanging on by a literal thread it goes out. Leaving the two of you in complete darkness. 

Your breathing hitches, lodges itself in the back of your throat, “Wonwoo.” The single word, his name, was the only thing you could get out. Even though it's only a faint whisper, as his body basically traps you in. Instantly you forget about all the smells of the small room, basking in the comfort of Wonwoo’s cologne. His hand is still on the doorknob, his other clenching and unclenching by his side. 

“Just one kiss and I’ll let you go.” He whispers, bringing his face down. You could feel his breath against your neck and you curse yourself while thanking yourself for wearing your hair up instead of down. “Please, I’ll be good, just one kiss.” His lips hover above your skin, his warm breath fanning it, delicately kissing it. 

You swallow, closing your eyes. It was tempting. Everything about Wonwoo was tempting, to the way he purposely chose to wear a crop top today, showing off the metal stud adorning his belly button. To the sweet messages, he sent you every night before bed. Paragraphs recounting loving memories of the two of you that he would never let go of. Or essays of the things he loved most about you. Every night was something new and it only made your heart for him grow in size. 

One day you’ll be able to see yourself from his point of view and understand why he thought the world of you. And you couldn’t wait. 

“And let Jeonghan win, he’s so serious about this. I bet he has spies everywhere we go.” You joke, swallowing thickly before turning around and placing your hand on his chest. It sends a shaking jolt through your body, almost knocking you down and giving in. But you are stronger than this, you spent almost a decade hiding your romantic feelings and sexual attraction towards him. You could wait one day. 

“Tomorrow, I’ll give you all the kisses you want and more.” You tilt your head, tapping your fingers against his chest. He bites his bottom lip and sighs, letting go of the doorknob, and steps back, taking his comforting aura and smell with him. 

Finally, you could breathe again. 

“After tomorrow I’m never letting you go.” He stuffs his hands in the pocket of his sweats, pushing them further down, leaving very little to your ever-present imagination. “You go up first before I change my mind and take you against the wall.” 

“I think having sex on camera again is something I don’t want to do for a while or probably ever.” You point at the security camera in the corner of the room. The red light flickering, indicating that it was indeed working. “That Mingyu dude finally got the message and stopped dming me on Instagram.” 

“You could’ve just blocked him.” Wonwoo sighs. 

“And have him make more accounts? I don’t think so.” You shake your head, “Plus he’s cute and used to let me cheat off him in our college math course a couple of years ago.” 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes and closes the distance between the two of you again. This time not caring about a camera or a bet or the fact that he was already semi-hard, and circles his arms around your waist reeling you in. “He’s cute?” His jealousy seeps through and he feels ashamed. Only a little. 

“Calm down baby boy, you know I only want you.” You giggle and push him away again, making him drop his hands. “I’m going now, stay, if you follow me I’ll let front desk Kyle know that you watched The Lord of the Rings series last week.” 

“That’s cruel. You know he won’t shut up about it if you get him talking. He’s worse than apartment 203 Kyle every time a new Avengers movie comes out.” He whines, stomping his foot on the ground childishly. 

You smile, reaching behind and opening the door. “Then you know not to follow me.” 

He nods, stepping back until he hits the metal mailboxes, the single overhead light starts flickering again, slowly bringing the room back to life. “I’ll miss you.” 

You don’t answer, instead, you blow him a kiss and walk out. Years ago, back when you were fifteen, after a disastrous date and messy inexperienced make-out session with the boy in the mailroom, you swore that being with Wonwoo wasn’t what the universe wanted. Now a decade later, a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree a day away, you were more than positive that this is what the universe wanted. 

You and Wonwoo together, until the end of time because truthfully the only person you saw yourself ever being with was him.

“Our little girls are growing up.” Seungcheol fake sobs into Joshua’s neck as Jeonghan took a picture of you and Maya in your graduation gowns.

In just two months Maya and you had grown closer and closer. The two of you spent every waking moment together. Sometimes you even visited the diner she worked at, sat in your usual booth doing your assignments, while she kept the unlimited fries - a specialty of the said diner - coming. 

This was only after she approached you one afternoon in the hallway on your way home from class. Kindly, she introduced herself and apologized for what had happened at the bookstore. Then you invited her to get coffee and the minute the two of you got talking about anything and everything, you couldn’t stop. She told you about how Wonwoo never shuts up about you and how she has this overpowering crush on her co-worker; Soonyoung. 

Tonight she plans on asking him out. She says he’s too focused on his Environment Conservation degree and the decreasing population of tigers to notice any of her advancement. “Shut up, you’re worse than my actual dad and he’s non-existent.” Maya spits out, joking, earning a pointed look from Seungcheol. Every time Maya made a joke about her dad or lack of a dad, Seungcheol always got mad. He says self-deprecating jokes aren’t allowed in the family and that she shouldn’t joke about such a thing because it made him feel bad. 

In typical Maya fashion, she ignores him. 

“My mom’s already inside with Wonwoo’s parents, they’re saving you all a seat.” You bud in before the start of another argument. An argument only a father and a daughter would have. Maya didn’t have a dad but she sure had Seungcheol and that was enough. 

“One more picture please.” Joshua begs, pushing his boyfriend away, “With all three of us, our first family picture.” 

“Not a family picture until Wonwoo gets here though and we’re missing Yoongi and Hao,” Jeonghan grumbles. Upset that he had officially lost the bet. He would’ve won if Wonwoo and you decided to carpool to the venue like the two of you originally planned, but he was running late so you decided to just go with Maya. 

“Fine, then let’s take a partial family picture and when we finally open the restaurant next week, we’ll take another one.” Joshua combat’s, his snarky tone goes unnoticed, making Seungcheol huff out and Jeonghan rolls his eyes. 

Despite only knowing the four of them for two months you had quickly picked up on some of their habits. Whenever Joshua was nervous his sarcasm would increase, almost coming across as rude. But you understood where his nerves were coming from, this was the first time and most public event the three of them attended as boyfriends since officializing their relationship. Though no one on the outside of your friend group would know, it was still enough for his nerves to spiral out of control. 

“Can we make it quick, I want to get a good seat?” Maya speaks up, fixing her tassel. You would think after doing this three times, the direction of the tassel before the ceremony would be ingrained into your brains. But neither you nor Maya knew. Opting to google it as your last option. 

Tassels go on the right side until their degrees are conferred, then moved to the left.

According to the small box of text that appeared at the top beyond the search. Still, the two of you were unsure until Seungcheol fixed them after picking the two of you up from your apartment. 

“Let’s wait for loverboy. He just texted me saying he’s parked.” Jeonghan pipes in, turning his phone around, showing off the short text from Pornsite Loverboy, no doubt Wonwoo. Joshua groans, running a hand through his hair. Every time someone surrounding all of you turns their head for a minuscule second, he starts to silently panic again, making his need to go inside away from prying eyes grow significantly.  

Seungcheol places a comforting hand on his shoulder squeezing it gently, making his eyes bulge out of their sockets. The touch is innocent, but in Joshua’s head, it's not. Every time he’s in this state he can’t stop his mind from entering the gutter. 

“I’m scared to know what my name is on your phone.” You point out, shifting from side to side. Decided, wearing heels was the worst idea you could have possibly had today, you hadn’t been standing for long and your feet were already threatening to fall off. 

“It’s Princess of Idiocy of course and Maya is Flaming Hot Cheetos cause you know her hair.” He shrugs, shoving his phone into the pocket of his jeans. Maya steps forward, her fist in the air but before she could land her punch. Wonwoo screams, causing all five of you to turn your attention to him. Maya’s attack is gone but certainly not forgotten. Knowing her she was already planning her revenge in her head. 

The air in your lungs gets caught in the back of your throat as your eyes finally find Wonwoo’s. He’s running faster than you have ever seen him run. His graduation gown open, showing off his white dress shirt and black slacks. You have to literally pinch your arm to keep yourself from drooling. His hair is styled to perfection with a few strands falling over his left eye. You’re left wondering how it hasn’t moved a centimeter when he finally stops in front of your friend group, smiling wildly. 

You have half a mind to completely skip graduation, it wasn’t like you were going to get your diploma right away. HYBE kept it hostage for another eight weeks. So would it even matter to cut your celebration with your family short just to get a head start on the private one you and Wonwoo have had scheduled for two months? You were more than positive that sitting next to him for two hours, listening to a bunch of bullshit speeches about how the future's looking bright for all graduates would be impossible. Especially when he literally looked good enough to eat. 

“Great, now that half of us are here, let’s take this picture. My feet are killing me.” Maya claps her hand, making you jump, taking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello to you too.” Wonwoo chuckles, zipping up his gown, turning to face you. “Help me.” He says extending his hand with his graduation cap to you. You nod and swallow, taking it from his hand, repeating right first then left as you fix his tassel and place it onto his head. Mourning the loss of his perfectly styled hair, jealous that the stupid cap was the one to ruin it and not you. 

“There, you look good.” You whisper, taking a step back. 

“Thanks, so do you, beautiful.” He smiles and stands next to you, placing his arm around your waist, and pulling you in. “I’m proud of you, we did it!” He whispers in your ear and leaves a gentle kiss against your temple. 

Jeonghan watches the entire scene, raising his brows in suspicion. “You two look awfully too comfortable for not talking for two months.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest and pokes the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue. 

“Oh they’ve been sexting,” Maya says, standing next to you, circling your waist in a side hug. Wonwoo sends her a glare and she sticks out her tongue at him like a child. “Sorry, but I wasn’t going to miss out on the look of Jeonghan’s face when he found out.” She says pointing at the blonde who was recently sporting a shorter haircut. His mouth opened in shock as he looked between you and Wonwoo. 

Offended he puts a hand over his heart. “The two of you have been lying to me?” 

“We didn’t want any of you to win.” 

“Correction, she didn’t want any of you to win. I was ready to give in a week into our deal.” Wonwoo points out, smirking. You scoff, hitting his chest lightly. 

Jeonghan stands up straight, his smile widens, and pushes his hair back, “I don’t care honestly, I just know everyone here has to pay up, especially you two” He points two of his fingers between you and Wonwoo. “I’ll expect the payment by tonight.” He finishes, skipping happily to Wonwoo's side and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Even though he hadn’t won something inside of you told you that he was going to get his way one way or another. 

“So here’s the thing I also expect to be the best man at your wedding too because let’s face it without me you love birds wouldn’t be together.” 

You roll your eyes, leaning slightly forward, “Hannie we aren’t together.” 

“Yet, she means we aren’t together yet.” Wonwoo buds in, pulling your body closer to his. “By the end of tonight, you’ll be mine.” He whispers in your ear, the same voice he used for his streams, sending a chill down your spine. 

“If we’re the last ones to walk across that stage, I’m blaming all of you,” Maya says, pinching both yours and Wonwoo’s arm, making the two of you hiss out in pain. 

“Alright alright, let’s take this picture before Maya has a conniption.” Seungcheol chimes standing next to Jeonghan, giving him a kiss on the cheek making the blonde blush deeply. 

The five of you wait, watching Joshua go up to an older lady, with bright Fuschia-colored lipstick and hands her his camera. They share a few words, using his charm and good looks to lure her in. You watch as they hug before Joshua is running and standing next to Seungcheol, his arm immediately going around his waist like second nature. 

“On three, say, family,” Jeonghan yells, while the lady starts her countdown. You smile, hugging Wonwoo’s waist. Instead of doing as Jeonghan says, you lean up and kiss his cheek as soon as the camera goes off. 

“Oh, I-” Wonwoo says, a rose-colored hue decorating his cheeks. He looks down, trying to hide how flustered he is, making you laugh loudly, while the rest of your friends try to figure out what happened. You won’t tell them until Joshua sends his film to develop and though the picture wasn’t complete. It would be one the two of you would cherish for the rest of your lives. 

Wonwoo couldn’t keep his hands to himself for more than five minutes. During the whole two-hour ceremony, his arm was either around your waist, shoulders, or simply resting on your lap. Squeezing it every time he heard something he liked. His own special way to keep himself from forgetting it. 

When it was finally time to receive your diploma; a blank sheet of paper that gave off the illusion to the spectators. He held your hand the entire time, fingers locked tightly with yours until you had to walk across the stage, shake hands with a bunch of different people you only heard off, not actually seen. 

But as soon as the two of you were back to your seats, he was touching you again. 

It gave you butterflies, to feel him so close to you but not to the point it would be deemed inappropriate. His touches were intimate but innocent and no one batted an eyelash when his touch found yours again. 

His parents and your mom seemed to just know what was going on because they didn’t even question his attachment to you once. Not during the post-ceremony photoshoot with family in front of the huge university sign. Not even during dinner when he insisted on sharing a plate with you. Not even when he fed you a forkful of pasta and sealed it with a cheeky peck on your lips. It was like they were waiting for the moment in which you and Wonwoo got together, again. But with the reaction to their newfound discovery being so anticlimactic you suspected they were just waiting until the two of you finally came to your senses. 

And you did. 

You suspected they were more proud of you and Wonwoo finishing graduate school. Even more so when Wonwoo promised to someday go back for a Ph.D. in which you most certainly declined the idea immediately. They didn’t care about whatever was going on between the two of you. At least that’s what they kept bragging about to whoever they saw on the street or the waiter at the fancy restaurant they picked out to celebrate. 

Still, it gave you a sense of security that no one was freaking out as you had imagined it. Everything was so normal, so easy that it almost scared you to the point of running away. Was love supposed to be this easy? Did you make the right decision? Will this be your utter downfall instead of your success? You almost wished you had declined the dinner reservation and just gone to Jeonghan’s place instead. Bottomless mojitos were his promise, and it was so tempting. Honestly, you would’ve given in if it weren’t for the sparkle of pride behind your mom and Wonwoo’s parents’ eyes. 

In a way, they were your kryptonite. 

Wonwoo saw your distress as soon as the dessert was placed down in the middle of the table. He held your hand tightly underneath the table and kissed your cheek before handing you a spoon. After the chocolate cake had basically disappeared, he made it his mission to get the two of you out of there as fast as possible. Before either, his mom or your mom stopped playing coy and started asking questions that neither of you really had the answer to. 

He succeeded, both of you said your goodbyes as quickly as possible before exiting the restaurant and practically dragging you to his car. 

The entire car ride was silent. One of his Spotify playlists playing through his car speakers. It felt nice like it used to feel but this time the two of you were connected on a much deeper level. A plane where the two of you simultaneously existed as not only best friends but lovers. It was like a dream come true. And even though you were slightly scared to take this life-altering step with him, you were still excited to see how beautiful it was going to turn out. 

“My place or yours?” He turns the volume dial down, succumbing the entire car in silence. He’s slowing down, making his way to his designated parking spot. That’s when the nerves start to build up in the pit of your stomach. Tonight had the possibility of going both ways and you didn’t have a preference. You really just wanted to be with him and him only. 

“Yours, I didn’t clean up before leaving.” You smile, unbuckling your seatbelt, while he puts his car in park, turning the ignition off. He chuckles and turns to face you, resting his elbow in the middle console and leaning forward. His fingers find your chin, turning your head gently to face him. 

“I’ve seen your place in worse states.” He leans in, stopping centimeters away from your lips. Your breath hitches. Your eyes struggle to find a point of focus and they don’t. Not even when he closes the distance and kisses you gently. He doesn’t give you enough time to process everything before he’s pulling away, resting his forehead against your own. “Let’s go since you’ve chosen my place. I can give you your surprise early.” 

“Surprise?” You say taken back. Wonwoo hums, sits back, and nods his head. He takes his car keys out of the ignition before opening his door. “I didn’t get you anything though.” You pout, opening your door and getting out. Once you're standing the discomfort in your feet begins again and you find yourself wondering why you choose to not only wear heels but the most uncomfortable pair that you own. 

Beauty is pain, but is it really worth a bunch of disgusting blisters? You decide no. 

“Didn’t have to, just being with you is enough for me.” 

All you know is that if Wonwoo didn’t want you entering his apartment before getting the chance to blindfold you. He shouldn’t have made the code to his apartment your birthdate.  

“Stop being so pouty, I love it.” You circle your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back. “Is this why you were late?” You let your hands travel up his torso, playing with the top button of his dress shirt. 

His whole apartment was decorated to the nines. The light was dim, rose petals scattered everywhere, creating a heart in the middle of his living room right where his couch should be. Instead, it was pushed against the wall where his gaming setup used to be along with the coffee table. 

Will You Be My Girlfriend?

Carefully drawn out on a large poster board and you know it was Minghao’s doing. As much as you think highly of Wonwoo, his art skills weren’t the best. You still loved every part of it that you didn’t want to move from your spot at the entrance of his place in fear of ruining it. 

“Yes, I was triple-checking everything.” He sighs, moving his arm so it's over your shoulder, and turns his body. “So, will you?” He whispers, playing with the thin straps of your baby blue mini dress. 

“I would love to be your girlfriend Wonwoo.” 

A deep sigh of relief escapes Wonwoo making you giggle at how nervous he was. The anticipation of waiting for your answer in the last few seconds was enough to drive him crazy. Enough to make him forget the entire speech he had planned out and the velvet box sitting nicely, burning a hole in the pocket of his slacks. 

He stumbles, creating a small space between the two of you before taking it out and popping the lid open, making your eyes grow wide. A simple silver ring, with a rainbow opal gemstone and a cluster of three tiny diamonds on each side, looks up at you. “Wonwoo wha-”

He shakes his head, placing his index finger over your lips. “Before you freak out, it’s a promise ring. We’ve been in each other’s lives for so long that honestly, I don’t see myself living a life without you in it. I want to marry you one day, have kids with you, and eventually grow old with you. Retire to a silent beach town complaining about how much our joints hurt all day.” He takes a deep breath, “I love you, I’ve loved you for so long whether it was platonic at first or not, I don’t know and I don’t care because what matters is you here with me right now. So with this ring I promise to get to know you in every way shape or form. I promise to be your shoulder to cry on and be your number one supporter in whatever you choose to do in life. I promise to encourage you to love yourself unconditionally, to believe in yourself, and to trust yourself. I promise to love you and treat you the way you deserve. I promise to let you be you and to grow with you. And I promise to one day make you mine in front of your friends and family.” He finishes, holding out the ring to you, nervously searching your eyes in hopes he didn’t just royally fuck up and taken a step too far. 

Which would’ve been reasonable, the two of you had agreed to take it slow. This was far from slow. In fact, this was the second before reaching the finish line and for a moment when he sees the single tear fall down your cheek, he wishes he could take it back. But that thought is soon buried deep deep deep into the crevices of his brain when your lips crash onto his. 

He doesn’t kiss you back at first, floored at your boldness and lack of words. Then your hands grab hold of his shirt, pulling him closer, your lips molding onto his and he finally kisses you back. It’s full of passion, sparks flying between the two of you as you start to unbutton his shirt. Wonwoo panics and pulls away, desperate to slip the ring onto the ring finger of your right hand to finally solidify his promise to you.

“Baby wait, let me put the ring on you before I lose it.” He says gasping for breath. The kiss was nothing like he had ever experienced before. It literally took the air away from his lungs and he was struggling, trying to find a way to put it back in. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten rid of that inhaler. His asthma wasn’t as bad as it used to be so really he had no need to have one on deck. That is until now. 

“Oh right.” You click your tongue, extending your left hand out to him, wiggling your fingers. 

“Other hand.” He says pushing away your left hand and grabbing your right one, making you raise an eyebrow at him. He ignores you, focused, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he takes the ring out of the velvet box, closing the lid and throwing it somewhere behind him. He decides he’ll worry about that later. 

With the utmost careful precision, he slides the ring onto your finger, sighing happily when it fits perfectly. “It’s perfect, promise me you won’t ever take it off.” He pouts, hugging you tightly, almost cutting off your airflow.

“I won’t, I love it so much.” You smile, leaving a peck against his chin. “But I do have one question.” 

“I might have an answer for you.” He teases. 

“Why my right hand and not my left hand?” You pull away enough to look at him. 

A smirk appears on his face before looking at you. “It’s reserved for the other ring I bought for you, but I can’t give it to you yet.” 

“Can you help me take my heels off?”

Wonwoo shakes his head, his dress shirt now unbuttoned, showing off his toned chest and the faint love bites you left behind after a heavy make-out session in his living room. You take your bottom lip in between your lips as he kneels in front of you. 

“Next time you’re leaving them on.” He takes your right heel, unbuckling it. He slips it off, sets it behind him, and attaches his lips to your ankle, kissing your leg. When he reaches the inside of your thigh he bites down, making you gasp. Chuckling he swipes his tongue over his bite, sucks on it gently before sitting back on his calves. His thumbs rub circles around your thighs, pushing up the hem of your dress. 

“I’ll make sure to wear comfortable heels next time.” You wink, lifting your left foot up, and placing it over his shoulder. Eyes filled with lust he turns his face and kisses over the strap of your heel, unbuckling it and slipping it off. He repeats his actions on your leg, smirking against your skin when you let out a tiny moan the second he sinks his teeth into the flesh of your inner thigh. Sneaking his hands underneath your ass, finally exposing your underwear to him.

He sucks in a breath, your arousal seeping through the thin material, making him salivate. “Can I touch you?” His eyes are hooded with pleasure, peeking over the black frames of his glasses. He doesn’t stop to hear your answer. Attaching his lips to the skin of your thighs, sucking, alternating between the two of them. 

Your hand makes its way through his hair, pulling him close, craving to feel the heat of his mouth on you. “Yes, please Woo I want this so bad.” You hiss, voice masked with need. 

“Lay down for me baby girl.” He whispers against your skin, giving your thigh one last kiss before sitting up, placing a hand against your mound, and pushing you down gently. He licks his lips, placing both of your legs over his shoulders. He sits up on his knees, connecting his lips with the band of your underwear, making you gasp. One of his fingers, ghosts over your clothed slit, teasing you further. 

Wonwoo lets out a short laugh when you start lifting your hips, chasing his hand. “Slow baby, I want to take tonight slow. Devour you until you can’t feel anything else but my touch all over your skin.” He whispers, taking the band of your panties in between his teeth, pulling it, and letting it go, enjoying the way it bounces against your skin. “What do you want?” 

“Anything, your fingers, your mouth, your cock. I don’t care, I just want you, Woo.” You sigh, back bowing off his bed when slides his fingers up and down your clothed slit. A satisfied hum leaves his lips as he takes your panties off with his teeth, moaning when the thin layer reveals you to him completely. 

The prickles of your short pubes tickle his nose. You smell so nice, look so beautiful. He has to fight everything in his body, telling him to grab his polaroid to take a picture. There are enough days in his life with you in all the positions he desires to see you in, where he can take as many pictures as he wants. Right now, he needs to taste you so bad that he feels like a starved man. 

“So beautiful my love, I never want you to change anything about you.” He states, pulling off your panties completely and throwing them behind him. “Never change anything about this.” He says, delicately running his fingers over the soft coarse hair decorating and protecting your cunt. 

You take a deep breath, “I didn’t shave, I'm sorry.” You mumble. Wonwoo shakes his head and brings his hand down against your thigh. The slap isn’t hard but it’s enough to make you gasp out in shock. Quickly you sit up on your elbows, his brows furrowed in a scowl. 

“Don’t apologize. I honestly don’t care, it makes you sexier.” He leans down kissing the hood of your clit. “If it were up to me I’d never let you shave.” He mumbles, running two of his fingers up your slit, earning a moan from you. 

“Your fingers are cold.” You lay down again, using your legs to pull him closer. 

“I have a few ideas on how I can warm them up.” He says, prodding your entrance with the tip of his finger. “Want to find out?” He pushes in, smirking at the tiny whines escaping your mouth. 

“God, yes please.” You gasp when he pushes his finger in completely, your warm walls welcoming him. It feels so good, better than your own fingers and he hasn’t even moved yet. He lets you adjust to the light stretch. If this was already driving you insane you couldn’t begin to imagine how good it would feel once his cock was in you, stretching you out into oblivion. The thought turns your brain into mush.

“Woo, move please.” You whimper. 

Wonwoo smirks and starts thrusting his finger, slowly, looking for that sweet spot inside you that will have you screaming his name all night long if he does everything right. “Move a little more to the right, you’re almost there.” You gasp, bucking your hips when he follows your instructions and finds your g-spot. Wonwoo massages it, memorizing the location so that the next time he has no trouble when looking for it. 

“Does it feel good? Talk to me, baby girl.” He moves his finger a bit faster, connects his lips to the mound of pussy, leaving behind open-mouthed kisses before pulling away. He gathers a glob of spit in his mouth and drops it onto your clit, moaning as it slowly moves down your pussy, his free fingers spreading his saliva and your arousal all over your lips and clit. 

“Oh my-yes. Want your mouth please.” You breathe out, your hands fisting his navy blue duvet, his thumb gently circling over your clit. 

“I bet you taste so good.” He swipes his tongue over your cunt, his finger inside of you pauses for a second as he moans, letting your essence coat his taste buds. Immediately he concludes that he could spend hours in between your legs pleasing you. He wraps his lips over your clit and sucks, moving his finger inside of you again, quickly finding your g-spot again and prodding at it gently. 

The pleasure is overwhelming, but it feels so good you never want it to stop. And silently, without letting too much guilt seep in you curse your previous boyfriends and past hook-ups for depriving you of such pleasure. 

Though maybe it was for the better. Wonwoo being the first one to go down on you, putting your pleasure above his own has ruined it for anyone else that will never come after him. Now he’s ultimately stuck with you forever, knowing that his mouth can do more than just offer comforting words, awful jokes, and philosophical quotes. 

Wonwoo is moaning loudly against you, making you whimper, your hips rotating, grinding yourself against him, pushing him further. It’s embarrassing how close you are to orgasm. Usually, it takes a lot more effort on your part to get you to that sweet high. But here is Wonwoo defying all laws of physics, with his vile menstruations that you’re so close to the edge. 

He pulls his mouth away. Only to circle his tongue over your clit and insert another of his fingers inside of you. The ‘come-hither’ motion against your g-spot makes you twitch. He grabs one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours, and rests it on top of your stomach. It catches your attention, distracting you from the orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. Just for a second because the second your eyes meet his watchful gaze your moaning his name loudly, letting go.

Wonwoo moans against you, the vibration runs all along your body as he helps you ride out your orgasms, slurping up your release. You taste even better than before and he has to talk himself out of giving you another orgasm with just his mouth. Unless he wants to cum untouched and in his pants, so he pulls away, taking his fingers out. He gently spreads around your release, groaning as you twitch from the overstimulation before standing up, using his mouth to clean up his fingers. 

You look up at him through hooded eyes, breathing heavily and communicating silently. With enough strength you sit up, bringing the rest of your dress over your head and throwing it off to the side. It leaves you completely bare for him. Which of course he knew, the entire time he was with you eating dinner, he couldn’t get the fact that your dress was backless and wearing a bra wouldn’t be ideal. Except seeing his imagination come to life again - this wasn’t the first time seeing you naked - made his cock twitch he had to turn around to keep himself from cumming. 

You laugh. 

“Give me a second baby.” He takes a deep breath, tugging his shirt off, letting it drop to the floor in a feather-like manner. His back muscles make you wetter than what you already were. Images of them contracting every time he thrusts his cock inside of you run wild in your head and embarrassingly you let out a moan. 

Wonwoo turns around, his wide eyes match yours. “Sorry, you’re just sexy.” You cross your legs in front of you and lean over, avoiding his eye contact. 

“Back at you.” He laughs, unbuckling his belt and popping the button of his pants. “Scoot up, lay against the pillows.” He takes his pants off, along with his boxers. You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing as he hops, trying to keep his balance as he takes his pants off completely and throws them somewhere in his room. He takes a deep breath, placing both of his hands on his hips. 

The laugh that had bubbled up in the back of your throat, runs past your lips faster than you can stop it, earning a glare from him. You roll over onto your side laughing, making him whine. “Stop laughing, I’m trying to have sex with you.” He gets a hold of your hips and lays you down again, settling in between your legs. 

“I’m sorry Woo but that was the least sexiest thing you have ever done.” You sit up, hooking your arms around his neck, kissing the tip of his nose. He scrunches it up, setting his hands on both sides of your hips. 

“Open my drawer.” He smiles, leaving a chaste kiss on your lips, and sits back on his thighs. He wraps his hand around his hard cock, rubbing the bead of precum over his head, spitting, wetting himself even further. You groan, watching him. Wonwoo touching himself was something you would never get tired of. The few streams he left uploaded on his camming account were your biggest companions when Wonwoo wasn’t texting you absolute filth. 

One day you’ll confess to your sin, but not today. So you follow his instructions, lean over and open his bedside drawer. “Grab the lube and condom.” He hisses, running his thumb over the slit of his cock. The sticky residue coats the tip of his finger and once you’re laying down with a condom and half-empty bottle of lube. He brings it up to your lips. You stick your tongue out, wrapping your lips over his finger, groaning. 

“How do I taste?” He smirks, taking the bottle of lube, uncapping it, and squirting a decent amount over your pussy. 

“So good, I want you to fuck my mouth.” You groan as he spreads around the watery substance over your pussy. He chuckles, wiping his hand on his bedsheets, before taking the foil packet and opening it with his teeth. 

“I can arrange that.” He says, rolling the condom over his hard cock, tugging it a few times before tapping the head of his cock against your clit, moving down your lips a few times before aligning himself at your entrance. 

You whimper, “Please, Wonwoo. Fuck me.” You plead. 

“I’ve imagined you saying that for years.” He confesses, pushing in slowly. “It sounds better in person.” 

“Woo- fuck, I-I love you but stop talking.” 

“I’m nervous, I talk when I’m nervous. You know that.” He leans over your body, pushing himself in, bottoming out. He closes his eyes tightly. The feeling of your soft, velvety walls engulfing him is overwhelming. He prays that he can keep himself from cumming earlier than he intends to, but you feel so good he thinks it’s nearly impossible. 

“Don’t move yet.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

“I don’t think I can.” He replies, kissing you. 

It’s gentle at first, both of you whimpering against each other's lips, pleasure building up between the two of you without much effort. Wonwoo feels his self-control come back and gives you an experimental thrust, making you gasp. He groans, inserting his tongue in your mouth, kissing you harder with more intention. 

The fire burns hot between the two of you as he lets go of all his fear and starts to move his hips with desire. Neither of you should’ve waited as long as you did to give yourselves to one another. It feels like you wasted years when you could’ve been having mind-blowing sex with the person you love most in the world. But now that the opportunity had presented itself so nicely, neither of you wanted it to stop. 

“B-Baby hold on.” You place a hand against his chest. He stops his relentless thrusts, panic painted all over his perfect features. You smile, pushing up his glasses that were sliding down his nose, before hooking your leg around his waist. The slight shift made the head of his cock press right against your g-spot. He feels it too when you clench around him, understanding why you stopped him. 

He had so much to learn about your body. Deciding that he will dedicate the rest of his life to finding out different ways to make you come. 

He will start tomorrow, right now all he wants is this. 

“You’re sucking me in, baby.” He pants, pushing his cock into you harder, groaning. He feels so high, on cloud nine, and never wants to come down. Decides that he can live here, buried deep inside of you forever, and be satisfied. 

“Touch my clit, Woo.” You whine, lifting your hips up from the bed, meeting his thrusts midway. He was so big and hard. The stretch was blissful and you never wanted it to stop, even with your orgasm approaching fast and unapologetically. “I’m close.” 

“Me too, I never cum this fast.” He says, circling his thumb over your clit, drawing fast figure eights making you moan. You sound so beautiful. Your wet pussy sounds so beautiful, squelching around his hard cock. He needs to feel you closer than he already does, so he moves a hand underneath your back, sits back on his calves, and helps you sit up. 

You cry out his name, his cock is pressed so deep inside of you, you can feel him everywhere in your body. You roll your hips, throwing your head back. The pit of your stomach gets tight, you're so close Wonwoo can tell. It motivates him to go fast, his thumb pressed against your clit hard and he’s fucking up into you, determined and cautious. Each trust hitting that mushy spot inside of you. It makes you yell. 

“Let go baby girl, I’m so close. Your pussy feels like heaven.” He mulls, wrapping his lips around your nipple and pulling at it gently. The newly added sensation is enough and it sends you over the edge with a loud mantra of his name. It’s a sight he never wants to forget, he engraves into his mind while he helps you ride out your high. 

Wonwoo lays you down again, takes his cock out, and quickly removes his condom, throwing it aside. He leans over you, the tip of his cock just above your belly button as he fucks his hand, repeating your name like it’s the only word he knows. He tugs once more, keeping his eyes on you as he releases. Ropes of cum coat your stomach, his own masterpiece he wishes he could display in a museum. 

When he finally finishes riding out his high and flops down next to you, his legs tangled up in yours. Shyly, you take your finger, taking a bit of his cum and plopping it into your mouth. Wonwoo moans, placing a hand on your cheek, guiding you to his lips. He kisses you hard, both of you moaning at the taste of his seed against your tongue. So he pulls away slightly, picks up more of his cum, coats your lips, and kisses you again, slowly, savoring every second of it. 

You pull away first, panting, moving your tongue across your lips moaning. “I want you to fuck my mouth, Woo.” You run your tongue over his lips, before kissing him again. Wonwoo moans against your lips, pulls you closer, his body against yours. He doesn’t care that his cum is now creating a mess between your bodies. All he wants is to be close to you forever. 

He lays down bringing you on top of him before pulling away again. “Give me five minutes and I promise I’ll fill up that pretty mouth with my cum.” He taps your chin, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I can’t wait.” 

“Careful love.” Wonwoo holds the door to the diner open with his foot. His hand is on your lower back as he guides you inside. This was your idea. Two more rounds, and a quick shower later. You begged him to take you to get M&M pancakes as he had promised two months ago. 

“Wonwoo, stop worrying, I’m not broken, you just fucked me good. I can still walk.” You joke. He rolls his eyes and guides you down the long line of vacant booths. Until he reaches your usual one and helps you sit down before he takes his seat in front of you. He does this on purpose. His libido wasn’t as high as it was in his early twenties, but that theory was immediately thrown out the window when he made you squirt with just his fingers before your shower. 

Now he needs to keep his distance to prevent any inappropriate touches between the two of you. 

“Maya!” You yell, looking around the isolated diner. It’s funny how the last time you sat here, Wonwoo and you had masturbated together in front of a camera, your emotions all over the place. Gaslighting yourself into thinking that what you felt for the boy in front of you was all because he had helped you orgasm. Unaware that that was just the opening to the very real emotions you felt for one another. 

The tables sure had turned. 

“She’s working tonight?” Wonwoo cocks his head to the side, mindlessly folding the paper menu, strategically placed in front of him. 

You nod, “She took too many days off last month because of finals so her boss told her she either works or leaves.” You shrug, tapping your fingers against the surface of the table. “Maya my lovely, beautiful, flaming redhead I want the pancakes you promised me!” You yell again, looking over the bar. 

Wonwoo chuckles and places a hand over yours. “You turn mean after sex.” 

“No, I turn mean when pe-” 

You’re cut off by something falling and breaking behind the bar. You jump and stand up as quickly as possible, Wonwoo following suit. Before you can approach the bar, Maya comes barging through the kitchen door, hair disheveled lipstick smudged. Behind her Soonyoung comes out, shirt on backward, pants unbuttoned. 

You and Wonwoo laugh, making the other couple groan in annoyance. 

“Babe it looks like I wasn’t the only one getting my back blown out tonight.” You wink at Maya who rolls her eyes, brushing you off. 

“Shut up or I’ll make you pay for all the free shit I gave you.” 

“Go ahead.” You eye Wonwoo, sending him a kiss. “I got money to spare.”

[rodeo-boots]

hello my dear! i was hoping if i could request some charthur! in many fics i see arthur constantly being comforted by charles, but never the other way around... so many, you could write charles returning back to camp injured/tired, and arthur has to care for him for the night? 🥺 i would love to see some trans!charles as well, but i won't ask for too much... nsfw is welcome, and as always, feel free to let your wonderful brain work its magic with any other ideas you have <3

Thank you so much for your request hny, I hope I did your idea justice <3

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 3122

Warnings: mild gore, angst

AO3

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Beaver Hollow was a shithole. The air was humid and dense, the mood at camp even lower than the temperatures could get during the nights. Arthur positively hated it, wished they had another choice but to take camp at such a spot. Breathing was getting harder for him by the day and some nights, he rode out only to take a deep breath of fresh air in the wide open meadows elsewhere.

He much preferred being anywhere but at camp, preferred to be far far away from Dutch and Micah, from those friends of his – whatever they might be called. These days, he couldn't even exchange a proper word with Javier or Bill anymore, met with stubborn phrases of loyalty whenever he dared to cross their paths.

The only reasonable people left were getting ready to pack up and leave, and Arthur wished they had done so earlier. He wished Molly had taken that chance while she still had it, wished that John and Abigail and Jack would be long gone by now. Not much longer, and he wouldn't be able to help them anymore, would succumb to the illness nesting within his chest and die the death that's always been destined for him.

He only saw one glimpse of hope and that was Charles, Charles who's loyalty had never solely belonged to Dutch but to a life of freedom. His only reason for being here was the younger man these days, the younger man who rightfully preferred to be anywhere but here himself. He had work on his hands, had assigned himself way too many tasks at once, trying to help out the Wapiti reservation while wanting to provide for the last folks at camp here.

Arthur wished he could help him, but just like Sadie, Charles treated him as though he was already standing in the grave.

Today, Arthur was solely here to catch up with Charles, like he was most of the time. He missed him, missed the times they had once spent together in a past that had been much better than what one might dream up now. All they could do was dream at this point, though Arthur's sleep was plagued by nightmares most of the time.

He had waited an entire day, had asked Sadie just before she could ride off to town. No one knew where Charles was, and by the time Micah saw him trail around camp like a lost puppy one time too many, he took it upon himself to finally give him an explanation.

"Your sweetheart's out huntin', got a little caught up it seems." The man grinned at him with his foul, yellow teeth, Arthur rewarding him with a grunt before he turned on his heel. If that was the case, and Charles had been out for days by now, something couldn't be right. The man was the best hunter they had, the best tracker left at camp. And no one seemed to care about the prospect of having lost him.

Arthur shook Micah off his tail, climbing into the saddle of his horse without missing a beat. Even though he wasn't as talented a tracker as Charles, the man had taught him a few tricks in the past, hopefully enough to come in handy now. He departed without looking back, spurring on his stallion with his heels firmly pressed into his flanks. Arthur snapped the reins, further on edge now than he had been all day. He had a bad feeling about all of this.

It took a while until he had picked up a trail of hooves, unsure if he even could identify them accordingly. His vision swam more regularly these days, his head feeling heavy as he peered down the side of his horse. He felt like he was getting sea-sick but he pushed on nonetheless, having only one goal in mind and that goal being Charles' safety.

All the time they had known each other, they had guarded one another's back better than their own. Arthur had no problem watching out for his friend, though Charles was way more than that to him.

They had ridden out together one too many times, had shared too many stories of the past and plans of the future to consider their relationship as professional and distant as it was meant to be. Often enough, they had kept each other warm at night, had shared their secrets and their doubts, and had listened to what the other had upon his heart.

Arthur's own now beat frantically in his chest. He hadn't noticed how tears had begun to cloud his vision the further he rode. It might be the wind stinging in his eyes, but the air was perfectly still. He brushed the back of his hand over his eyes, blinked, caught his breath and pushed onward. After all the time that had passed, he couldn't be sure how far Charles might've ridden, least of all with a fast horse like Taima beneath him.

He just hoped they were okay.

Day soon shifted into night, and without a trail to follow now that his eyes were no longer of use, Arthur decided to settle down. He didn't bother setting up his tent, didn't bother with much more than a small campfire to stay warm. His nose was running within the cold but he ignored that, too, staring down at his own two feet while his arms loosely hugged his knees to his chest.

A sound from aside tore him out of his thoughts, made his head snap up and his hand instinctively drop to his gun belt. "Who's there?" He asked, rasped more accurately, coughing against the scratchiness of his throat. Maybe he really shouldn't be out here, but it was much too late to turn back around.

He pushed himself up, his bicep quivering beneath his weight, the rustling within the bushes stopping, until a figure pushed through all the way. "Arthur?" He could identify Charles' voice well enough, would never be able to forget it, cursing under his breath as he stumbled to his legs to catch him. The man had to have found him with the last of his strength, had to have followed the smoke and the scent of the campfire until he'd eventually seen him.

Arthur couldn't tell what was wrong from one glance alone, pulling Charles closer to the campfire to examine him. It was dark by now, cold, the humidity making way for temperatures that were much too cruel for most humans to endure. But Arthur knew he was going to die anyways.

"Christ– what's happened t'you?" He muttered, not even daring to ask where Taima might be now. Charles' shirt was left in pieces, torn and bloodied, scratches and what appeared like bitemarks upon his skin. "A cougar?" Arthur asked, laying his friend's head down in his lap while peering down at him with concern in his eyes. The tears were back, but he didn't acknowledge them.

"Murfrees," Charles' voice came, little more than a gust of air, meeting Arthur's cheek as he spoke. The man tried to sit himself up, pushing at Arthur's upper arm to give him space. And while Arthur backed away enough to allow him to breathe, he didn't let him put any more strain on his wounds. He hadn't gotten much of a look at them until now. "What're you doing out here, Arthur? You shouldn't–"

Arthur softly shook his head, muffling a cough with the back of his hand. "Don't talk," he muttered, grabbing for the knife on his belt to help the other man out of his shirt. "S'this okay?" He asked quietly before bringing the blade to the hem of Charles' shirt, watching him swallow until he got a small nod in reply.

His lungs rattled when he exhaled, leaning further above his friend to cut through what was left of his shirt, his breath catching at the gruesome sight of his torso. "How bad's it hurt?" he murmured, catching onto the sweat upon Charles' forehead and the strain in his eyes. He knew he had to act fast if he wanted to help him, able to see that his wounds already had started to swell and shape bruises. When his friend only hummed, his eyelids fluttering in a way that made Arthur's chest constrict painfully, he reached for his satchel right away, pulling out the last bit of alcohol he carried.

Arthur didn't wish to do anything that might make his friend uncomfortable, but he couldn't exactly ignore the deep gashes on his chest, mumbling an apology while ripping fabric off his shirt and drenching it in alcohol. "Hold still," he advised, biting down on his lower lip as he started to clean up the wounds, applying minimal pressure and stopping every time Charles stirred beneath him.

He had never seen the other man in so much pain, had never seen him as vulnerable to begin with, cursing under his breath when he didn't find a set of bandages where he had thought they'd be. "Hang on–" Arthur got to his legs, cushioning Charles' head on his rolled-up bedroll before stumbling over to his horse, his vision clouded by black and white specks.

These days, he couldn't move as swiftly as he was used to anymore, grabbing the saddle for support and gritting his teeth, his free hand slipping into his saddlebag to blindly feel around for the bandages he hoped he carried. He returned to Charles' side right away, falling to his knees in front of him, not caring for the mud that smeared his shins and knees, hands shaking as he unraveled the bandages.

"You'll be alright– jus' hold on," he kept on muttering, even though Charles' eyes had long since fallen shut, his breaths much too shallow for him to see. "It's okay, please…" he wrapped the bandages around his torso, covering all the open gashes he could find, his muscles quivering when he lifted Charles' body ever so slightly. The man was deadweight in his arms, Arthur's lip trembling while his throat grew tighter, swallowing down a sob when he laid the other man down again.

Arthur took off his jacket, covering Charles as well as he could before taking his hands off of him entirely. "Charles? Charles… are you with me?" He couldn't stop himself from reaching out, cupping the man's cheek in his hand, his features peaceful, though that wouldn't calm Arthur just now. His skin looked much too pale, what he could see of it through the illumination of the campfire light at least, running his thumb over his chin as his eyes stayed on the other man.

"Don't you give up on me now," he whispered, his eyes glazing over further. "I– I need you, Charles." And while he knew that the other man was unable to hear him, Arthur couldn't stop talking, the panic within his chest spiking the longer he didn't get a response. "I promised you I'd get you out of here– that we'll run away, make a life for ourselves out West." His breath rattled, a sob leaving his chest after all. Arthur dropped his head to Charles' shoulder, his hands holding onto the man's upper arms.

He tried to calm his breathing, hot tears streaming down his cheeks to seep into the jacket he had covered the other man with. "You can do it– you have to," he mumbled, his voice barely audible through the tightness of his throat. "I still— I still haven't told you I love you." His shoulders shook, keeping his face buried within Charles' shoulder as he stayed hunched over, not caring for how hard it was to breathe like this.

*

The night had grown darker and colder around them, merely sounds of nature audible after Arthur had passed out from exhaustion. His hand held Charles' in a loose grasp, body curled up by the other man's side to offer him more warmth. The tears had left salty traces upon Arthur's cheeks, his lashes sticking together though he had no strength to open his eyes either way.

Maybe he'd die out here, with Charles by his side, wishing and praying the man hadn't passed away already. Arthur couldn't bear the thought that he might still be breathing while his friend wasn't, the worth of his own life much less than what Charles had amounted to by now. He had only ever wished for his friends and family to be safe, for his loved ones to escape this cruel and harsh life, but it seemed there was no escape. For even when Dutch wasn't involved, people got hurt.

Arthur didn't feel how the other man's fingers moved within his grasp, how Charles squeezed his hand tighter and stirred by his side. He was far gone by now, captured by a deep sleep he hasn't had any way to fight.

It only was with a tightening hold on his shoulder that he eventually woke, turning his head away as he rasped out one cough after another into the crook of his elbow. "Arthur." Charles' voice sounded faint, like it came from far away, even if the man laid right by his side. Arthur turned again, heaving his breaths as he rolled onto his back, his gaze meeting that of the man next to him.

He swallowed thickly, knowing that his eyes had to be reddened and puffy, not only from his illness but because of the crying he had done previously. "You look… horrible," Charles whispered, letting go of his shoulder to reach down and take his hand again. His fingers were clammy, but undeniably alive where they held onto Arthur's.

"I was always ugly," Arthur responded, wheezing out a laugh that turned into another cough before he knew it. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, relief encompassing his expression, though he knew that there was no reason to believe that the worst was overcome just now. "Let's get you home," he muttered, weakly whistling for his horse that had to be somewhere nearby. They had to leave this place, get Charles back to camp to try and stitch him up, hoping that they still had the supplies to do so.

Charles held onto him, not letting go even as Arthur tried to stand, softly shaking his head when he turned to look back down at him. "Leave me," he said. "I'll only be baggage to carry–"

But Arthur wouldn't hear that. "I ain't rode out here to abandon you," he grunted, gathering Charles in his arms as well as he could, his horse already waiting by their side. "We'll get you to camp, get you back on your feet and fix this." It was hard to maneuver Charles onto his horse, the man barely able to keep himself on his own two legs. He managed, anyhow, stubbornly bringing his own body into the saddle behind the man to make sure he wouldn't fall.

"We– we don't got supplies at camp. Don't make it hard on yourself, you can't… safe everyone." Charles' head lolled back against his chest, Arthur dearly trying not to listen to the words he had spoken in an attempt to stay composed.

"Then I'll bring you to the reservation, Rains Fall will—"

"I'm not gonna take anythin' away from them." Arthur snapped the reins, pushing his heels against the flanks of his horse to get the stallion going.

He stayed quiet, brows furrowed while he concentrated on the path ahead, leading his horse through the trees as fast as he could. "I'll get you to a doctor then… just hold on." Charles didn't raise his voice again, so Arthur focused on riding for now, unwilling to face the thought of leaving his friend anywhere to die.

*

They arrived in Annesburg before the sun had crept too high up in the sky, Arthur stopping a man on the streets to ask for directions to the nearest doctor's office. He had slung an arm around Charles' middle to try and keep him from falling off his horse, the man seemingly passed out once again.

Urgently, Arthur followed the directions he had been given, yelling for someone to come help him once he had found the building that had been pointed out to him. From there on out, everything happened much too fast. There were hands helping him off the horse, hands that pulled Charles from his grasp before he could do or say anything. He only saw how the other man was led away from him before he collapsed on the wooden porch to the building, waving people away that tried to pull him back to his feet.

*

Arthur woke in a bed with clean white sheets. The room was lit by sunlight, smelling of disinfectant and cleanliness. He stirred, his head pounding nastily when he tried to sit up upon the mattress. His first thoughts belonged to Charles, though he didn't need to search for long until he saw the other occupied bed within the room, grunting as he swung his legs over the edge to stand.

With uncertain steps, he made his way over to the other man, his clothes different from before, white and clean, feeling like nothing he had ever worn in his life. Arthur sat himself down on the chair by Charles' side, able to see that his clothes had been changed, too, the visible bandages around him clean.

He reached over, taking one of the hands the man had rested upon his stomach. His motion seemed enough to rouse him, Charles' eyes blinking open slowly, the dark orbs meeting Arthur's own soon enough.

"You okay?" Charles asked, his voice heavy from disuse.

Arthur stared down at him, shaking his head in disbelief before bringing the man's hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. "You's the one who nearly died, and you're askin' me if I'm fine." The corners of Charles' mouth lifted ever so slightly, Arthur releasing a light sigh. It was a relieved sound, fueled by his belief that now everything would turn out to be okay.

"What you said to me before, in the forest. Did you mean that?"

Arthur had to think for a moment, not having expected Charles to have heard any of his words at the time, nor for him to remember now. He nodded, kissing the back of Charles' hand once again. "Every word," he whispered, not embarrassed on behalf of what had left his mouth in a moment of desperation.

"Good." Another brief smile passed over Charles' features. "Because I do, too. And I want to keep living." He disentangled his fingers from Arthur's, reaching up to gently grasp his jaw. "With you."

[loveislattes]

Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them

Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!

Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Talk of depression and stressful life, mentions of unnamed character death, mentions of beheading/dismembered head and some minor blood/gore (not too detailed), cursing, mentions of family in the hospital, demon!Dark (akin to jinn or genie), and pet names.

A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! This first chapter is allllll story setting. Part two will have the good ol' rough and dominating Dark fucking.

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

“Look, I think it’s just best if you take some time off.”

Though worded nicely, you instinctually felt the pang of panic and anger already bristling in your chest.

“Time off…” you murmur, eyes sliding down to your boss’s desk in thought, “As in, a week or two or…?”

You let the implication hang heavy in the air. There was a telling silence that followed your question. When you finally met his gaze again, your boss let out a hefty sigh. Before he even said anything, you knew what his answer was by the sympathy on his face alone.

“We won’t fight your unemployment for the first few months, which hopefully will be enough time for you to find another place of employment. I’m sorry, Miss Y/N, but between the company making cutbacks and your recent drop in productivity, I had to-”

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed sharply, interrupting him before he could finish the excuse.

Rage fueled your motions, forcing you to your feet while your eyes narrowed on the man you’d once thought a decent person.

“A drop in productivity?” you scoffed, “My apartment building was just destroyed in a freak fire two weeks ago that, of course, my insurance refused to cover. I’ve been bouncing place to place between motels and friend’s homes until I can afford another deposit on the measly pay you give us. My mother is in the hospital, in the ICU, after a freak hit and run. My car broke down yesterday and I walked thirty fucking minutes in the pouring rain today just to make sure you assholes weren’t a man down with all this work. And you knew all of this, but you still decided to fire me? I can’t- You know what, fuck you. Fuck you and fuck this place! I hope this whole company shuts down and you get to experience even a modicum of the instability I’ve had to!”

Before he could respond, you slammed the chair back into place against the desk and stormed from the room. You could feel the confused gazes from your coworkers as you marched to the door but didn’t dare spare them a glance. Most of them you considered to be your friends and you knew you’d have to explain everything later, but you couldn’t allow anything other than anger to inhabit your body at that moment. One bit of sadness and you would crumble. Rage would keep you safe until you made it to your temporary home for the night.

Little curses and fury-filled resentment spilled from your lips as you stepped out into the dreary public. Of course, it was still raining. You hadn’t even dried off from your trek to work and now you were thrown right back out into the storm. A timely crack of lightning rumbled across the sky as you shot one last middle finger back at the door.

“I can’t believe this shit,” you grumbled.

Pulling your raincoat up over your head, you kept your gaze down and began your journey back to the hotel. The one upside to all the rain was that the sidewalks were nearly barren. Cars sped by on the busy roads but you were alone on foot. In fact, you didn’t see a single soul until you were on the block housing your hotel, and somehow that lonely occupant still managed to slam into you.

“Excuse you,” you muttered.

“So sorry, please excuse me.”

The person’s voice sent shivers down your spine and every last hair stood up on your arms. Reflexively you pulled back as a hand touched your side, ready to give them a mouthful, but they were moving on by the time you could gather your wits about you. All you caught was a tall form in a black business suit striding off in the opposite direction.

With an irked tsk and a mutter of “Fucking asshole”, you rushed into the lobby, stomping the rain from your shoes along the rubber mat. Sure you were pissed off but you still had the human decency not to create more work for others.

You managed a little nod to the desk clerk on your way by to the elevator. As you watched the numbers climb slowly down, you mentally questioned the fates if the world was against you. The elevator stopped on literally every- single- floor; All 25. Trying to maintain your composure, you leaned up against the wall and let your eyes flutter closed, slowly breathing in and out rhythmically. Just a little longer and you’d be in the safety of solitude. You could let it all out.

The ding of the lift doors opening pulled you out of your little meditative session and you immediately let out a grateful sigh of appreciation upon realizing it was empty. Being stuck in a small metal box with others for an undetermined amount of time made your skin crawl, much less when you were already on the edge of snapping. You mashed the close button repeatedly until the metal doors finally sealed shut and the elevator began to move. The rest of the journey was a blur until you stopped at your room door and fished your card out of your pocket, coming out with not only the plastic key but a large silver coin.

“The fuck?” you muttered.

As the door buzzed open, you flipped the coin over in your fingers, trying to think back on when you had gotten it. You were pretty sure you’d never seen anything like it before; completely void of any details on one side but the other filled with finely engraved words.

The loud startling thump of your keys as you threw them on the nightstand wasn’t even enough to draw your concentration away from the interesting little trinket. It took a few minutes and some good lighting but you eventually figured out what was written; the discovery only confusing you further.

“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea

In return ye shall become my endless devotee”

“Yeah… that’s not creepy at all,” you sighed.

Tossing the coin on the nightstand next to your keys, you sloughed off your wet clothes and tossed them in the small hamper next to your duffle bag. After this horrid morning, you needed a long hot shower before you pondered on any strange coins or the mental shithole that had become your life.

You weren’t sure exactly how long you spent under the burning water but, by the time you exited, you were both hungry and in dire need of some caffeine.

“Or a nap. A nap could be heavenly,” you murmured to yourself.

Towel around your head, you dropped into the bed naked and took a moment to revel in the sheets against your freshly lotioned skin. There was hardly a better feeling. Thank god you had the good sense to buy some of your own sheets rather than rely on whatever the hotels had to offer. It made your day the tiniest bit better.

As you leaned back against the headboard, you snagged up the coin once more. The metal was cool against your warm fingers as you flipped it around and around. Did you dare give it a try? What was the worst outcome: You felt silly for believing a random coin and no one would ever know? Although, what if it was legit...?

Now that thought made you feel silly. A little chuckle passed your lips before you clasped the coin between your hands and brought it to your chest, closing your eyes as if about to pray.

“Alright, I don’t know how this works so I’m just gonna state my wishes out loud. I hope that works for, well, whoever you are. First off, I want that backstabbing business ruined. They fucked me over after I bent over backward for them, now they deserve to feel the same. Please. Second, I don’t know how you could do it, but I’d really like my insurance company to finally approve my apartment claim so I can find another place soon. Third-”

You trailed off as emotions immediately welled up behind your eyelids, the burning already tingling in the back of your throat from holding them in.

“My third and most important wish, please, if nothing else, find the one that put my mom in the ICU and make them pay. Those idiots down at the police department couldn’t find them, or so they say anyway, so just… give them what they deserve, please.”

With a stifled sniffle, you wiped away the few tears that had escaped and fell back against the headboard, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling as you let the pain wash over you; Rage, dread, hope, apathy, desperation. Eventually, the unending barrage became too much to deal with. This wasn't a new thing in your life, but it had certainly culminated into something worse with everything going on in your life; clinical depression exacerbated by a series of unfortunate events.

With no other plans for the day and the weight of your heart heavy in your chest, you chose to simply roll over and bury yourself, and your troubles, in the fluffy comforter. You’d feel better after a nap. You were almost certain of it.

Even as you drifted off into sleep, the tears didn’t cease.

When you first woke, you weren’t sure what had roused you but you knew it wasn’t good; All you could feel was bone-trembling terror. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, felt frozen in place with only the ability to stare at the now dimly lit wall; watching the shafts of setting sunlight ever so slowly creep down by the minute.

“Come now, darling,” a low voice crooned in the void behind you, “I know you’re awake.”

Like a rubber band snapping, the grip on your body suddenly released and you shot up in bed, immediately turning around to find out who had spoken. You weren’t sure what you expected but it certainly wasn’t the devilishly handsome man that was seated next to the window. The sunlight pouring down on him made it very obvious that his skin was lacking any range of melanin, rather being pallor shades of whites, blacks, and greys, but that didn't detract from his appearance at all. In fact, he looked like something out of a Gothic romance novel or a Tim Burton movie. Once the enchantment of seeing him began to wear off, you finally noticed what sat on the table next to him.

A human head.

“Holy fuck!”

A hellish screech escaped your lips as you hastily scrambled backward, trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible, only to go careening off the edge of the mattress. The pain of impact on the floor couldn’t even deter you. As your back hit the wall, you kept your eyes pinned on the intruder, watching for any sign that he was going to follow you or attack.

“While I’m certainly not minding the show, don’t you think you’re rather underdressed for this occasion?” he spoke suddenly.

It took a few moments for his words to sink in but the moment they did, you launched yourself back at the bed with a hushed curse and promptly pulled the sheets up around your naked body.

“Who are you? How did you get in here? I-Is- Is that real?”

Long clawed fingers made their way into the matted, bloody mess of hair and pulled the body part free from the table with a sickening pop.

“It is undoubtedly real, but I figured you’d believe me much quicker if I had a visual aide to my claims,” he replied, dropping the offending thing before tossing you a sharp, seductive, smile, “The name is Dark. I’m a demon and the owner of the coin you wished upon.”

Your tongue felt too heavy to move while you watched in horror as he licked the blood from his fingers like a cat bathing itself.

“I- I don’t-”

“You don’t understand,” he supplied helpfully.

As he rose from his seat, you stared at him owlishly, unable to take your eyes off his graceful form as he nearly glided across the floor to stand in front of you.

“That coin,” he hummed, pointing at the metal disc in question, “It belongs to me. When someone makes a wish while holding it, I’m able to hear them. In your case, I heard all three.”

Trepidation tickled the nape of your neck when your eyes slowly rolled over to the head once more. It was as if you couldn’t breathe. Sick crawled up your throat and it took every ounce of your strength to keep from vomiting at the man’s feet. You don’t know how long you sat there, struggling to breathe and ease the nausea but, when it finally went away, rage took over.

“I didn’t want you to actually KILL them!” you shouted.

The demon casually arched a brow in your direction before saying, “You specifically wished for the one involved in your mother’s accident to get what they deserved.”

“Yeah! Like prison! Not death!”

A soul-trembling crack resounded through the small hotel room as he slowly craned his neck side to side, ethereal pulses of red and blue emanating from his being. Some of the previous ire slipped from your hold when he moved even closer, step by step until his knees were touching yours.

“I will never understand you humans and your sense of righteousness. Would it ease your mind to know this wasn’t the first time they had committed such heinous crimes?” he asked.

“W-What?” you questioned softly.

“I will not delve into details but rest assured that your embarrassing sense of compassion was lost on them; they were vermin,” he explained, “Now, that makes three wishes fulfilled. You have two remaining.”

You thought back on exactly what wishes you had made and were immediately overcome with dismay.

“Wait, what did you do?!” you demanded, jumping to your feet and glaring up at him, “You didn’t kill anyone else, did you?!”

A twinge of disdain passed through his features. His hand landed heavily on your shoulder and you were shoved back down onto the bed with a 'tsk' of disapproval, as if scolding a misbehaving child.

“Fortunately for you, no. Your previous place of employment has simply been condemned for multiple code violations that have mysteriously come to light during a surprise investigation, and your insurance company has been informed that they’re facing a lawsuit if they don’t reevaluate your claim with a more positive outlook.”

Relief flushed through your veins and you thanked him meekly. You wouldn’t have been able to live your life knowing you had caused the deaths of so many people, let alone friends.

“So, what now?” you asked.

“You have two more wishes before your soul belongs to me.”

He said it with such finality and ease that you almost didn’t react at first. Once his words settled in though, oh, panic quickly followed.

Gaping up at him in wide-eyed disbelief, you tried to stammer out some rebuttal or plea, but nothing would come out. Panic soon gave way to defeat as you realized there was no obvious way to get out of this ordeal. It had been clear as day on the coin.

Thinking on the offending piece of metal, you looked over and snagged it up, reading the inscription once more.

“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea

In return ye shall become my endless devotee”

“So that’s what this meant,” you sighed quietly, before gazing at him once more, “And there’s no way to bargain out of this?”

He looked mildly pleased by your inquiry, letting out a little hum before falling back into an ornate chair that definitely hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

“And what would you bargain?” he purred, “What could a simple little human such as yourself have to give to me, other than your soul of course.”

You cursed his infallible logic and stayed quiet as you tried to think over your options. Truly, you had nothing else to give him; no money nor gifts. Your soul was the only valuable thing you owned, and there was no undoing what had been done. A person had died because of your wish.

With a heavy sigh, you sat up to your full height and prepared yourself mentally.

“Is there a time limit? Do I have to make my wishes today or can I think about them?” you asked.

“You’re free to use them when and wherever you wish. However, do not think this a loophole. Choosing to postpone your wishes until death does not release you from this contract. Your soul will still belong to me when you die.”

Well fuck. There went that option. If you were doomed no matter what, you might as well make use of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity... right?

“I’m going to need time,” you whispered.

“Fair enough,” he replied, finally taking a step back, “You have my calling card. You can call for me if you have any questions, otherwise, you know what to do.”

He strolled back to the window and snagged the dismembered head, flashing you a wide smirk that framed his fangs perfectly.

“I’ll just be taking this with me. Hope to hear from you soon, darling.”

[oreoambitions]

Parts 1-3 // Part 4 // Ao3

Part 5 of 8

The shadows outside are growing long, the evening light burning a brilliant orange through the trees, and all is quiet at the little cabin in the woods but for Lena sprawled across Sam’s bed reciting the same handful of Kryptonian words over and over like a prayer. She’s mostly certain she’s got them down. In fact, she’s mostly certain she’s going to be reciting them in her sleep for the next thirty years if she isn’t dreaming about Sam’s exhaustive reminders of their meaning and significance and gravity. 

Sharing the cabin with Kara these last few days, Lena feels as though she’s come to a whole new understanding of gravity. She understands it in the way she catches herself leaning towards Kara even when she’s on the other side of the room. The way the world seems to quiet when Kara speaks. That inexplicable solidness to Kara’s body whenever Lena can excuse an innocent touch: a comforting hand on the shoulder, a kiss on the cheek. She understands it in the weight of these unfamiliar words on her tongue, a promise thousands of years old entrusted now, improbably, to Lena.

“Kara’s back,” Sam says.

Lena falls silent mid-recital and sits up. She looks at Sam and she feels... too many things. Warmth. Anxiety. Inadequacy. Pride. A rush of contradictions held at bay by the repetition of the words and brought to the surface again whenever Lena has to actually think about what comes next.

“I think you’re ready,” Sam reassures her, and Lena knows that what she means is that Lena is able to say the words without sounding like a fool.

“I don’t know,” Lena replies, and what she means is that she isn’t sure she will ever be ready to be married to Kara, even if it is just a legal charade. Especially when it’s just a legal charade.

“You can always say the words in English instead if you get scared.”

Lena makes a face. Sam laughs and offers a hand to pull her up off the bed. They tease one another all the way down the stairs - not about the vows, not now that Kara is around to overhear them - and so it is that neither of them notices that Kara isn’t alone until they arrive in the kitchen. Clark is sitting at the table in his super suit, head in his hands, and when he looks up he fixes Lena with an expression so heavy that Lena knows at once that something is wrong.

Kara won’t even look at him. She’s standing with her back to the room, fiddling with her cape, worrying at the edge of it so intensely that Lena is concerned she’ll tear it with her fingers. “I don’t even know him,” Kara is saying. “He was an infant when I left Krypton, he- How could you even suggest such a thing?”

“I’m not suggesting it,” Clark says. “I’m just the messenger.”

Lena has crossed the kitchen before she realizes she’s decided to do it. She tugs the cape gently free from Kara’s fingers and, back still turned, Kara opens her hand for Lena to take.

“Any solution that doesn’t protect Lena is a non-solution,” Kara says, threading her fingers through Lena’s and tugging her forward. Lena nearly stumbles - Kara is too upset to be graceful in her strength - and catches Kara’s shoulder with the other hand to compensate. She’s shaking under Lena’s touch. Quickly, before she can think better of it, Lena presses in close and wraps her arm around Kara’s waist, brushes her lips against the back of Kara’s neck just inside the collar of her suit. Kara’s grip tightens around her hand, and the shaking stops.

“I understand that, but Argo is more concerned with the preservation of your bloodline-”

“I understand Argo’s concerns, but I think I’ve made myself clear: I won’t marry for duty.”

Lena’s heart jumps. If not for duty, then for what? And then something awful twists inside of her. Who is she marrying for duty if not Lena?

“I think you need to be honest with yourself,” Clark says. “I think you need to carefully consider what this is really about.”

Kara rubs her thumb across the back of Lena’s hand, squeezes once, steps out of the embrace, half turns to look at Clark over her shoulder.

“If I ask you to marry us tomorrow, will you still do it?”

There is a silence so long and so thick that Lena feels as though she might choke on it. And then Clark says, “Of course I will.”

Kara turns away again. She stares out the window for a long moment and then she says something in Kryptonian which Lena can’t understand and she sweeps out of the cabin without looking back.

“Where is she going?” Lena asks.

It’s Sam who answers. “Into solitude to commune with Rao. It’s- On Krypton she would do this for days. It’s meant to give Rao the opportunity to weigh in on the engagement before it ends.”

“Before it ends,” Lena repeats. She looks up at Sam, who reads the unspoken question in her face. How does this end? But Sam doesn’t answer this time. Lena rounds on Clark instead. “What is this about?”

What she means is what is this marriage about for Kara but if Clark catches her meaning he avoids the question.

“Argo is having second thoughts. You have to understand, very little of Krypton’s nobility still lives. Kara is one of the last; they want her to return home, marry into one of the other houses, ensure the survival of the bloodline.”

The thought of Kara ‘ensuring the survival of the bloodline’ with some Krpytonian boy makes Lena feel vaguely sick. “I notice they aren’t asking you the same.”

Clark makes a noncommittal gesture. “I’m not bucking thousands of years of tradition to play at a man’s role - Argo’s words, not mine - in a marriage that will never produce an heir for the House of El. Or, if Argo has their way where Kara is concerned, the House of Ar.”

So this is about nobility, and blood, and the preservation of the status quo. Lena wants to flip a table. She wants to run after Kara to tell her that she understands the tension that lives in the space between principle and duty, especially where family is concerned. She wants to run after Kara, period. She pushes the thought aside. “Is there anywhere in this shithole of a galaxy that isn’t overwhelmingly patriarchal and homophobic?” she asks.

“No,” Sam and Clark reply in unison.

It would be funny if it weren’t so depressing. Lena pulls up a chair across from Clark and snatches an apple out of the fruit bowl just to have something to do with her hands. “So what now?”

“Now we wait for Kara to come back and tell us whether or not there’s still going to be a wedding,” Clark says.

Lena’s stomach ties itself neatly into a knot. “And if there isn’t?” A pragmatic question, of course. If there isn’t a wedding then there’s little more than the implicit threat of Kara’s wrath to protect Lena from the consequences of lying under oath. But she can’t bring herself to think about consequences or about the law just now. She can think only of Kara’s hand in hers, of the way the world seems bigger, brighter, boundless when Kara is around.

Sam scoffs. “Don’t be an idiot; she’s still going to marry you.”

Hopefully Clark can’t hear the way Lena’s breath stutters or the butterflies that have suddenly burst into life inside her rib cage because frankly it’s a little embarrassing. He’s nodding along as Sam speaks. “The marriage is still her best shot at protecting you,” he says. Then, looking at Lena out of the corner of his eye, “I understand Sam has been teaching you the vows in Kryptonian.”

Sam and Lena both begin to deny it at once, stumbling over one another until Clark raises a hand to silence them.

“I swear,” Lena says. “Sam has been very clear about how important this is, and I mean every word. I wouldn’t say them if I-”

“I know,” Clark interjects. And then, eyebrows raised, “I don’t think Kara has caught on. Actually, I think she suspects the two of you are sneaking off to make out whenever you get the chance, which is funny but kind of painful to watch.”

“Oh my god,” Sam groans. She puts her head down on the table. “Oh that makes sense but oh my god.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say ‘oh my Rao’ now,” Lena teases.

Sam kicks her under the table.

Clark clears his throat. “I think it’s a sweet gesture. And I was thinking that if you were open to the idea there are a couple of other Kryptonian traditions we could arrange while Kara is out communing in the woods. This wedding matters to her; I want to make sure we get it right.”

Lena offers Clark a hesitant smile. “So do I,” she says. “What can we do?”

The smile Clark offers in reply is so genuine and so warm that Lena at once and for the first time sees his resemblance to Kara. “I know on Earth the bride traditionally wears white, but is there any chance you’d consider red?”

“For Kara, I’d consider anything,” Lena says, and she means it. The truth is, she’s always meant it.

Her tone must be a little too sappy, because Sam rolls her eyes. “Oh my Rao,” she grumbles. “Here we go.”

[artxyra]

I'm not entirely sure that your taking requests (I'm only 68% sure) but if you are can you try doing a daminette fiction based on the song Karma (cover by CMKC) with some class salt? (Maybe even some sibling jasonette or some daminette (or maybe even both...?😏) if you can) Btw I love your writing! 💜 (And before I forget thx for doing my requests, the previous ones and hopefully future ones 💜)

Note: This fics original idea had Marinette being akumatized into KARMA, yeah that didn’t happen when I was writing this one. 

I've lost my mind The skies are crashing around me I'm left behind Smoke obscures all that I can see

“Oh, look, honey, our daughter made her first dress. Get the camera.”

A doll sits on the windowsill overlooking the growing garden on the deck. The doll has blue straw-like hair, bright blue color buttons for eyes, and a black stitched smile.

“Get out! You’re nothing but a pest. How could I care for such a child when you couldn’t do the one thing you brought into this world for.”  

The doll no longer sits on the windowsill, but now lays on in wastebasket. No longer did the doll possess the bright stitch smile. Instead, the face lays bare without a stitch in sight.

“Hey, what are you doing out here all alone? What’s your name?”

“K-ka-karma…”

A small blue jay flutters its wings.  

“I’m Jason. I’ll protect you for now on.”

The blue jay chirps.

A bullet sounds off. A small pull of blood surrounds the bird.

“No!” A thunderous boom goes off in the distance. Multiple sirens join the assembly of loud music. A young pre-teen holds the girl close to his chest, blood oozing out of her chest. A hand touches his shoulder. He shakes it off. Never letting go of her.

Beep…Beep…the heart monitor comes to life slowly. Waiting for the young child to test its system. There is no movement. Then there is silence.   

A dark-haired, blue eye teen, stares into the mirror. Her eyes showing no emotions as her body is littered with markings ranging from cuts to words meant to demean a person.

“Marinette! How could you take credit for Lila’s design?”

The mirror cracks slightly.

 “You have to be an example, Marinette. Your peers look up to you.”

Another crack.

“Marinette how you be mean to that poor girl at your school?”

Another crack.

“I thought you were our everyday Ladybug.”

The mirror shatters. All that is left is darkness.

Marinette stares frozen in place. The gloss in her eyes fading away as the glass falls to the ground, blood in her hand as fragments of glass pierce her skin.

She gasps unsure what to do. Her hands never close as she stares at them with fear. The blood continues to ooze out. The room does dark. A thump.

Her frail arms wrap around her legs tightly. She doesn’t move.

When she comes to, it's by the rushing sound of running water. A waterfall, maybe. She looks up and all she can see is white.

“Why did you do it?” A voice pulls her away from the water. Quickly, she turns around but is halted by a pain aching feeling shooting through her body. She lets out a cry.

“I’m I dead?” Her voice was hoarse, she couldn’t even whisper.

“No,” The voice chuckles. The knobs squeal to life. The water stops following, no longer hitting her in the face. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Her mouth opens but no words come out. She begins to breathe heavily like there was no air entering her lungs.

“How could you push Lila down the stairs? Here’s a taste to what Lila felt.”  One moment she was standing top of the stairs getting ready to leave, the next she at the bottom of the platform. Everything was hurting. Then darkness.

Marinette eyes flutter open, there the no hard tile beneath her like earlier but now cotton sheets and a blanket. She could feel her body move, one toe wiggle, two taps against her fingers.

“Jason,” She sits up pulling the blanket closer to her chest. There is no one there.

A wave of sadness washes over her. A glossy shine covers her bluebell eyes.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, Pixie.” The voice was comforting. She curls into herself. His arms wrap around her and pull her close. Whatever happened to her should have never happened.

He looks down, a soft snore escapes her lips. A smile appears on his lips. At least she safe and with him. No longer in that toxic environment.

A phone vibrates. It’s Marinette’s.

Jason unlocks the phone to see a series of messages. None of which are good. The hand holding the phone shakes. He tightens his grip. Slowly the screen begins to crack.

“You’re safe now.” He whispers into her ear. “Your big brother is here to protect you.” The remaining source of light turns off. He stays next to her.

“We are meant for each other M’lady. To halves on the same coin. You belong to me and no one else can have you.” Green eyes haunt her dreams. The cold feeling returns with growing darkness that was all too familiar.

She wakes up screaming. Tears rolling down her cheeks. There was no stopping the waterfall.

Jason runs into the room cursing himself. He knew he should have left but his family needed him for a mission life or death.

“You’re okay, Pixie, no one but you and I are here.” She continues to cry into his chest. He doesn’t mind the dampness he welcomes it. “It was a bad dream, Mari. A really bad dream.” His free hand caresses her hair, calming her down slowly.

“Todd what is the meaning of this.” His little brother asks over the phone. Jason watches as Marinette takes small bits of her food before swirling the remains in her bowl before repeating the process.

“It sounds like you miss me, Demon Spawn.” Jason jokes back, half into the conversation. He keeps his attention on Marinette. “Hold on.” He hangs up before Damian could retort. Marinette had pushed her bowl away from her and picks up the spoon. She looks at her reflection.

“Why would Adrien even spare you a glance. You are ugly, dull, nothing you would do would ever get his attention.”

“Argh.” Something snaps. It was the spoon. Breathing heavily, Marinette staggeringly gets out of her chair.

Jason helps her to the floor. He could see that she wasn’t going to make it far in her current condition.

“Am I not pretty enough.” Jason barely caught her words. He must burry any of the anger he has for those idiots for the sake of his sister.

“You’re magnificent, Pixie. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He replies. His phone continues to ring with the familiar ringtone, He ignores it.

“Thank you, Jay-Jay.” Marinette closes her eyes. The ringtone lures her to sleep.

“You’ll never be a real designer, Marinette. One word from him and Gabriel will have you blacklisted from the industry before you even put your name out there.”

“I like to see you try.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, an aspiring fashion designer, has been blacklisted on the bases of copying designers for her work.”

“I told you, Dupain-Cheng, you should have back off when you had the chance.”

Marinette curls into herself as the memories flood back into her mind. She’s alone. The old TV flickers in the darkness. The channel continues to change as the voices, tone, and display changes with each click of a button.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” She murmurs to no one. Her grip tightens around the blanket.

“What the fuck, Todd? You’ve been gone for days on end and being all secretive.”

“I didn’t think you care about my well-being, Demon. I have a life outside of this shithole.” Jason says as he cleans the barrels of his guns. His younger brother growls. He could only raise an eyebrow.

“I will find out what you’re hiding Todd.”

“Good luck with that.”

Jason picks up his guns and disappears within the shadows of the Batcave.

“Pixie,” The door creaks open. A little bit of light enters the room. Marinette is sleeping on the couch, the blankets cocooning her. Everything seems fine.

“So, she’s what you’ve been hiding.”

“What the fuck?” A gun cocks.  

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, my sister in everything but blood.”

“Hmph…why is she here?”

Jason sets his gun down and shuts the door. He turns to Damian; the teen genuinely was curious.

“She needs helps and I’m the only one who can help her. Gina tried but the mental and physical abuse became too much to manage. So, for her protection, Gina sent her to me.” Popping the cork off the bottle, Jason pours himself a drink.

“Does father know?”

“If he did, she would have been adopted in the family by now.” Jason pours himself another glass. Damian scoffs at the out his brother is drinking.

“Ladybug is hereby declared an enemy of Paris.”

“Tikki, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  

“What do you mean you’re no longer going to be Ladybug? You’re a true creation soul. A true holder of the ladybug miraculous.”

“Find someone else to do it, Master. You heard the Mayor, I’m an enemy of Paris, no better than Hawkmoth and Mayura.” She hands him the ladybug miraculous. Her red eyes close at the thought of losing her best friend.

Marinette wakes up sweating, her hand immediately reaching for her ears. Nothing. She sighs and curls back up.

“She’s been through a lot Damian, whatever scheme you have in mind leave it be and forget about it.”

Swinging her legs over the bed, Marinette sneaks over to the door. The door opens just enough for her to rest her hand against the doorframe.

“Jay-Jay…” Her voice was a whisper again.

Jason pushes the bottle and glass to the side. He’s by her side examining her. She wasn’t hurt.

“Pixie, you should be sleeping.”

“I had another nightmare.” She tells him. “Who’s your friend?”

Damian shuffles in place. She’s so tiny compare to any of his sisters like the wind could just blow her over without even trying.

“I’m Damian.” He tells her.

Marinette gives him a curt nod. Her eyes lock onto his. They’re green. She could feel her chest tightening. No air could get in or out. The glossy look returns in her eye turn.

Sobbing Marinette screams out, “Je vais le faire, Chat Noir. Je vais le faire, arrête!” She slides the down the doorway.

“Shit,” Jason runs over to Marinette. She blocks her view of Damian. Her lock on the green eyes soon fades to blue. Jason’s eyes. She tightly wraps her arms around his neck. Jason rubs her back. Turning to Damian all while keeping him out of Marinette’s sight, he tells his brother, “We’ll finish this later. Your eye color triggered a memory. And Damian, do not tell anyone about her.”

Damian is frozen in place. So much had happened in the last ten or so minutes. He had met the most beautiful girl he has ever seen and then she has a panic attack, something clearly triggered by previous trauma.

“Okay, I won’t tell.” The youngest Wayne agrees but not without weighing the pros and cons. He left the small rundown apartment with more questions than answers.

Jason turns his attention back to Marinette, who’s sobs turn into sniffles. “He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt you anymore, Pixie.” Marinette buries her head into Jason’s chest. She takes a deep breath. She can only hope.

Now you've used up all your luck It's time to get what you deserve I'm holding out for KARMA I'm holding out to watch you burn

Years past before Marinette was completely healed. Gina would visit from time to time making sure that her granddaughter was okay. She was ecstatic to find that Marinette was healing even if it was a slow process.

“Are you ready?” Marinette turns to Damian; his green eyes hold so much love and care for her than the green eyes she had grown to hate. Nodding, she takes his hand.

Beyond the doors, a series of lights flashes along with shouts. Reporters are in a frenzy trying to get the latest scoop on the Wayne heir’s beloved. Never once had she made a public appearance.

“Yes, thank you all for coming and showing my family your support. Today marks a very special achievement, my young son proposed to his girlfriend just a couple of days ago much to my second oldest dismay.”

Jason disrupts Bruce’s speech by shouting, “Hey” from his location next to Roy.

“Please welcome my son and his fiancée, Marinette Karma Todd.” Bruce steps away from the podium. The doors behind him open to show Marinette holding hands with Damian. She grips his hand tightly as Damian gives her a reassuring smile.

In Paris, several people are thrown in for a loop. Several lawsuits were issued. Collège Françoise Dupont, the school board was not happy at the treatment of one their student, a student that would grow to become one of the most powerful women out there.

Adrien Agreste, who was outed as Chat Noir, received a sexual harassment charge and a restraining order. The Wayne’s were out for blood and wanted to add attempted rape charge and compensation for all the trauma he had caused Marinette.

Lila Rossi, who managed to keep a tight grip on her classmates was finally exposed. Apparently, her latest lie was about being the mysterious Damian Wayne’s girlfriend. That backfired. She was then hit a cease and desist order along with a restraining order. Marinette had won the war.

Alya, who never learned to check her sources, lost any and every opportunity in her field. She even lost her job because she published a story about her best friend being the Wayne heir’s girlfriend. Thankfully, for the business, that article was only hosted in Paris, but the damage was already done.

Marinette never sent anything to her adopted parents. They didn’t deserve her. She was their servant, someone to help with the bakery. Though they were better than her birth parents, she couldn’t find it in her to ruin their lives. Gina became her legal guardian and that was that.

“I’m so glad that I meet you,” Damian says to her, placing a kiss on her hand. Marinette giggles and pulls Damian in for an embrace.

“I’m the lucky one. You would have thought this would be my future.” Marinette gestures to their growing empire. It was small but with Wayne Enterprise and Damian’s Veterinarian business, they were doing quite fine.

“Can I offer you a dance, Angel?”

“I would love that.”

No music plays just the beat of their hearts as one.

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[gentlemen-of-lies]

Gentlemen of Lies, prologue

Agent Curt Mega? Never heard of him... 

(Next chapter)

————

Earl’s Court, London, England- 1947

“Sorry, mate. Rest of the place is all booked up.” Curt sighed, and leant in close to the man at the reception.

“Listen, I can’t sleep in that room. The bed’s broken, the taps won’t work. No offence, but it’s a pile of shit.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Yankee, I’m sure you’re used to fancy American hotels, but we’re living in post-war London. You’re lucky to get a bed at all.”

“You must have a room with better facilities I- look...” he took his wallet out of his breast pocket and pulled out a wad of pound notes, waving it in front of the receptionist. “How about we make a deal, eh... Bill?” He began, glancing at the receptionist’s name tag, his tone lower and trying to make himself appear as persuasive as possible. “I’ll give you double the room is worth if you just let me swap rooms with the lucky guy who gets a working shower.” Bill pondered the offer for a moment, then sighed.

“For the love of Gordon Bennett, fine.” He grabbed the money from Curt’s hand and pocketed it. Curt smiled at him, with a slight smugness, which did nothing to decrease Bill’s disdain for him.

“You better hope I don’t lose business over this... bloody Americans. You’re coming with me,” he added. “You can have room 23, whoever’s in that one, and if they get pissed you’re getting the brunt of it.” Curt rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” He supposed it was the least he could do, if only to stop the risk of Bill kicking him out altogether. He’d been wandering around Earl’s Court all day trying to find a hostel that was both available and liveable in. So far this was the only one he’d managed to find, and it was hanging on by a thread. Typical Cynthia. Carting him off to London on a case she never wanted to deal with in the first place, and not even finding him any sort of accommodation beforehand.

“You’re going to some shithole in London to work on a case for MI6. You’re already on thin ice, newbie, so don’t fuck it up,” was all she had said to him. A bag of weapons had been shoved into his arms, a passport and a plane ticket, with only a vague idea of where he was headed. The rest was up to him, and customs had been a fucking nightmare.

Bill knocked on the door of room 23, situated down a damp corridor with equally damp carpets, coloured an atrocious orange that almost hurt Curt’s eyes. The sooner this case was solved the better, he thought with a scowl.

The door opened, and to his surprise, it wasn’t a down-on-his-luck old man, which was the usual status of residents in these places, but a very beautiful woman, seemingly alone. She stared at both of them, irritated by the sudden interruption.

“What?” She asked, not as a question but as a statement.

“Sorry, love, but this gent wants to swap rooms,” began Bill, but Curt suddenly interjected.

“Actually, you know what... let her keep the room. I’ll stay in mine. I couldn’t possibly steal a room from such a lovely lady as yourself.” He flashed her what he thought was a winning smile, but she simply wrinkled her nose up at him and shut the door in their faces. Bill turned to him.

“I’m not giving up the money just cos you’re trying to get a shag.” Curt fought to hold back a scathing retaliation. ‘Don’t get kicked out,’ he told himself, almost biting his tongue off.

“Fine.” So Curt had to return to his room, as broken and damp as always, but now he was twenty pounds short. No wonder Cynthia kept calling him the worst agent she’d ever had the misfortune to work with. He couldn’t even bribe his way to a better room. Preferably one where he didn’t get throat punched by a spring in his disgusting excuse for a mattress. He rummaged around in the one bag he was allowed for personal items, taking out a silver flask and uncapping it. He knew the worst thing he could do was turn up on the job hungover, but by this point, he couldn’t help but accept that he was never going to be a world-famous spy, or even a very good spy. And he needed a drink just to get through the night in this bloody place.

Huh. Bloody. God, he was already becoming a Brit.

He took a swig from the flask, and as he did, the overhead lights switched off without warning. From out of the window, he saw the same thing happening to a number of buildings along the street. A power cut.

Just what he needed.

————

He must have gone to sleep at some point in the early morning, because when he opened his eyes, he found he could see again. The lights were still a bust, but daylight was finally shining through the window. In fact the sun appeared to be rather high in the sky... he blinked for a second...

Shit!

He checked his watch. 12:34. Twelve thirty fucking four!?

He jumped out of his bed, the frame creaking dangerously, and he had to sit back down immediately, holding his head. He groaned.

Jeez, how much had he drunk last night?

Cynthia was going to blow up on his ass when he returned back to America. Maybe he should just stay here, fake his death, change his name, live out the rest of his life in this dirty hellhole. Compared to what he had to face up to, it was almost tempting.

But, no. He had to do his job. And maybe, just maybe, he could try not to fuck up again. Cynthia might let him off lightly if he still managed to solve the case... whatever the case was...

“Great start, Mega, you don’t even know what you’re trying to fucking solve,” he said out loud. He finally stood back up again, holding onto the table top by the window for support. All he had to do was get dressed, skip showering unless he had the guts to knock on that woman’s door and ask to use hers- which he didn’t- and meet the guy he was getting partnered with at some café down the road. They had to meet at one o’clock. He could make it if he just hurried, sobered up and got a move on, and hopefully not look like a mess in front of his new, temporary partner- whoever that was going to be.

[princesspiratecat]

The Rise and Fall of the Shepard Family Part 22: Spring, 1083

(This is a long one, but hopefully worth the read!)

Part 1& Part 2

Part 3 & Part 4

Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7

Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10

Part 11 & Part 12 & Part 13

Part 14 & Part 15 & Part 16

Part 17 & Part 18 & Part 19

Part 20 & Part 21

Never before had Gwendolyn felt so happy as she did when her sister had arrived to visit her at her little hovel. She hadn’t been able to stop the tears from flowing, and soon both of them were wiping them away. 

After the servant had left, Gwyn had demanded to know everything, but Gwendolyn didn’t know where to begin. There was so much to tell, and all of it pained her to speak of. 

“Is this really where you are now residing? This little hovel?” Gwyn turned a discerning eye towards the house as they walked nearer to it, and Gwendolyn felt herself blush with shame. She had tried to keep it neat and tidy, but there wasn’t much she could do without a proper set of tools. The hovel was just too poorly constructed for even the most basic of shelters. It felt like a blessing when the weather had finally turned and she no longer had to worry about rain falling on her bed. She could only hope it would not snow or rain again.

“I’m afraid so. The day of my birthday Marcelle hastily had my bags packed and drove me here in a covered wagon. He told me this would be my new home after we arrived. I should have suspected something that morning based on his behavior.....but I fear, I blindly trusted him.”

“Do not blame yourself. How could you have known what he was going to do? This has taken us all by surprise. When I found out you had been sent away, I could hardly believe it. It is Marcelle that must take the blame, not you.” As they reached the front room, Gwendolyn stoked the fire and began to prepare a meal, as the sun would be setting soon and she imagined her sister must be hungry. She immediately noticed how much food there was in the basket, and it was of better quality than what she normally was given.

 “What do you mean, us? How did you come to find out that I was here in the first place?” They sat down to a nice hot bowl of soup Gwendolyn had made from a fat hare she had caught yesterday. 

“I didn’t. Francine wrote about a month ago, and the letter had been given to me by Oswin.”

“Oswin? You mean, Oswald’s younger brother?”

“The very same, yes. I had thought it strange that she hadn’t invited me to visit her for such a long time, but in the letter she explained that she had suddenly been forbidden to see me by Marcelle, yet didn’t say why. In her next letter, she told me that the engagement had been broken off, and you had been sent away, but that she didn’t know where you had gone. When I confronted Aélfgiva about seeing you, she said she would talk to Marcelle. Not long afterwards, he wrote to say that a servant would fetch me in the morning to take me to you, and here I am.”

The humiliation that Gwendolyn had endured upon being sent off was awful in and of itself, but the idea that her entire family was now somehow tainted, and not good enough to associate with any of the Allards, hurt her even more. “ I had not thought that my exile had been extended to my entire family. This is worse than I had imagined.” 

“What exactly did he say to you? How did he justify his actions!? How could he bring you to this shithole, in the middle of a forest?!”

Slowly, Gwendolyn revealed all that her sister did not yet know. She tried not to dwell on the parts of the story that were especially painful, and rushed through his unkind words when he had dragged their family down to the mud, implying that they were nothing. She found it was nearly impossible for her to say the exact words he had said about their father, because the loss of him was still fresh pain for both of them. But somehow she got through it all, and then shared how she now viewed everything. 

“This hovel....this dung heap of a house, is his feeling about me, about us- made manifest and clear. But it’s worse than our house was. It’s worse than anything I’ve ever had to endure. And I was left alone to fend for myself when the snow storm came. I had to find food for myself, otherwise I would have starved.”

There was such anger on her sister’s face at hearing those words. “What about your dowry?! We had so many excellent animals. Surely it was worth more than this!”

“Oh Gwyn.....don’t you see? This is my dowry. This hovel is now all that I have....” Putting her troubles into words made them all the more real and soon Gwendolyn could not stop the sobs from violently shaking her body again. She got up and leaned her head against the counter, as the tears just kept on coming. 

Gwyn said nothing, but silently cried as well. 

“I’ve been clinging to the idea of Frances for months now. And I cannot understand why he hasn’t come to see me, even if it’s just to say goodbye. Am I really so terrible that I do not deserve such simple consideration? How can I be his future bride one day, and the next not even fit to say a single word to him? I cannot make sense of it......” she was sobbing so hard now that she could not continue. 

“Oh, please don’t upset yourself further. I do not believe Frances has any idea where you are”, said Gwyn. That got her attention and her head snapped up.

“What!?”

“I do not believe any of them know. Marcelle must have kept it a secret from all of them, because if one of them knew, they would all find out. Frédérique would never keep a secret like that from her brother, nor would Francine. The letter that she sent made it clear. He could not write to you, so she wrote to me. And that is why Marcelle forbade any of them from speaking to any of us.”

“I had not considered that. But....you must be right.”

“Perhaps that is also why Marcelle sent me a map and allowed me to see you. He still thinks that his children will blindly obey him. Indeed, he must feel very comfortable with that idea, which is why he didn’t think it necessary to keep you and I apart any longer. If his children don’t speak to us, he has no reason to continue punishing you.”

“Yes. He may also not want to be seen as the type of man who punishes two young girls who have done nothing wrong. I noticed how he sent a lot more food, of higher quality this time around. He even sent linens. He has never done that before. He wants to appear the good benefactor still- at least to you and Aélfgiva.”

After a long silence Gwendolyn gained some composure of herself and sat down by the fire again, staring into the orange flickering flames. It gave her some relief to know that Frances didn’t know where she was, and perhaps hadn’t given into his father so easily. Everything her sister had said made perfect sense. 

“I like to think that Marcelle has some heart left. I like to think that he still cares about us. Only his pride got in the way", said Gywn. Her sentiments may have been true, but Gwendolyn no longer wished to think about him. It was now time to turn their minds to the task of getting her out, and how they would accomplish that.  

“I must speak with Frances. I must. I have had so long to ponder the situation, if I don’t get any answers, I fear I will lose my mind and go mad.”

"Of course you shall. And I will assist you in any way that I can.”

The next morning they poured over the map and calculated that Gwendolyn had been taken over twenty miles from the Allard estate to the hovel, which was in the middle of two very small villages that neither had heard of. Having no money and few resources, the main obstacle in her leaving would be where she would go. She could not stay at the orphanage, and of course going back to the estate was impossible. 

“If only you had parted on better terms with Oswald, then perhaps we could ask his family”, Gwyn said. 

“What better way could there have been? Oswald did not want to break off the engagement for any reason. I tried to spare his feelings as best as I could, but given that I hadn’t seen him for so long....it was difficult. I realized that day that he had changed beyond recognition to me, and I no longer knew him.”

“You have been engaged most of your life to someone, and yet still remain unmarried. Do you not ever wish you had married Oswald instead? At least you would not be alone now.” 

Gwendolyn’s features clouded into sadness, as she had realized the same thing her sister spoke of from the very beginning of her troubles. Her life seemed to consist of always waiting, always hoping, always dreaming of having a family of her own and finding that she belonged somewhere, and she resented it. 

“Maybe, but would I have been happy? What Frances and I had was real, and what Oswald and I had was a youthful fancy. I know that now that I am older. I can never go back.” 

When they tallied up their resources, it was decided that Gwyn would return home when the servant came to fetch her, as was planned. She would then combine the meager allowance she and Edith were given at the orphanage, and income from the pelts of the animals Gwendolyn had caught, and try to procure a horse. Then she would ride back and come and fetch her sister, then they would ride to Grimsby. She would speak with Frances at any cost and Gwyn agreed that it was imperative that she do so- even if it meant further punishment from Marcelle.

The next morning was a cold one, and snow began again to fall upon the ground, but only lightly. Despite the foul weather she knew she would have to shelter herself from, she felt better than she had in months. 

“You have Mama’s strength, and you will get through this. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She tenderly embraced her sister goodbye, and watched the wagon grow smaller and smaller as it slowly disappeared down the road, which was beginning to freeze. She sat down upon a log and got lost in her thoughts, contemplating how happy the visit had made her. It had brought her comfort, relief from her loneliness, and hope all at once. She was lucky that she still had some family left, even if they were orphans now. I’m not alone. I have the love of my sisters. 

She turned to head into the house, but then heard a horse in the distance and stopped to listen. It was the sound of a single horse, and she wondered if something had gone wrong with the wagon. Was her sister in trouble? The sound grew closer and closer, and she headed back down the path to the road, shivering slightly in the cold. But it was not the servant or her sister on this horse. It was Frances.

[theunemployedrogue]

I'm not a fan of most motivational sayings/platitudes but I do think there's something to be said for "when one door closes, another opens".

I've had a lot of 'doors' closed on me in life. Lots of rejections, missed opportunities, lost connections, and straight up failures. Sometimes l get overwhelmed just thinking about it like, 'Oh god this is it -- this time I've finally fucked up so bad my entire future is ruined and I will never dig myself out of this shithole in a million years!!'

The conditions during the pandemic have only exacerbated these feelings of existential dread. Some days I'm so demoralized I can't face myself. Other days, like today, I'm able to acknowledge my past failures and hardships and remind myself that even though it might involve a long and painful journey, my situation will eventually improve.

That said, I think it's important to remember that "improvement" isn't always going to be clear-cut or linear, despite what we're conditioned to expect. If you get fired from your miserable job, for example, that doesn't mean you're now destined to discover your 'true calling' and become a self-made billionaire beloved by all. I imagine most people have probably indulged in that 'how do you like me now?!' sort of fantasy at some point, but it never becomes reality for most of us.

When you're adjusting to a major life change irl, the majority of the 'improvement' you'll see will be mundane and even underwhelming at times. In the example of losing your job, your 'next big move' may be taking a part-time gig making half the salary you made before. You might decide to volunteer or return to school in hopes of developing new skills and interests. It might take a while before you even know how to move forward.

I'm having trouble expressing this the way I want, but I guess ultimately the point I'm trying to make is, failure isn't the end. If you flunk every single one of your classes and drop out of school, that doesn't mean you can't go back to get your diploma or even pursue a PhD in the future. Getting fired from a job or hell even 10 jobs in a row doesn't mean you'll never get hired again. If the person you considered 'the love of your life' breaks up with you, you're not destined to be alone forever.

Even if it feels like it, even if it's really fucking awful and hurts like hell and turns your existence upside-down, it's very rare that a situation is truly unsalvageable.

Failure is not the end.

(I'm not writing another five paragraphs to cover all the caveats that apply here, but obviously I am not trying to downplay the very real challenges faced by those dealing with tragedy, crime, poverty, mental illness, etc. 'Thinking positive' is no substitute for our society making an effort to address these issues. This is just my attempt to reassure myself, and hopefully others struggling with similar anxiety and doubt, that life actually gives you many, many second chances.)

[wrongwiredmind]

Hating ourselves is almost an obligation these days, whether you're a millennial, generation z, or x or whatever grading label deemed necessary in this situation (I don't even know what I am, but if someone know, then by all means, I was born in 1999),

All i know is sometimes we can't afford to hate our own person, and seriously screw pep talk, screw psychology, and definitely screw society, but if I spent more time hating myself or drowning in self pity (keep in mind that I would never reach so low as to pity my own self, let alone accept others pitting me!!), how miserable my life is, or, perish the thought, how much I deserve this pain and hurt? Then I won't have the time to freaking turn my life around and atone for whatever misdeed my brain is tricking me into thinking that I did that was so horrible I deserve all the things it spits on my face!!!!

And atoning for my supposed "sins" does not necessarily mean that I have to give my life to society and environment and anything else others spew at me, but it also doesn't mean to just have the determination and will to "climb the mountain", honestly, from all the heated thinking I've been going through the last week, to stop all the misery I have to find the means after I make the decision, and to go with the mountain climbing metaphor, that means getting all the equipment that you need from the harness to the helmet to the ever helping rope that without it you can't reach the peak, and most importantly, training to climb up, in more general terms, you'll need the tools, not to mention how you use them, since your body is the most important tool here, that will help reach a position, not only of strength, but a place where hating yourself is so impossible the only thing you could feel is pride, and believe when I say, pardon my bluntness, you'll fail, because if you didn't it means you're still in the same place you were in before,

Because if you want to move from the shithole you put yourself in (let's face it, your brain is part of you) you need to remember five things:

1- your skill set is not finite, it could still get improved.

2- (as I said beforehand) your brain is part, of you, don't waste it by letting it rot without exercise (and no gumball jokes, punching school teachers is nothing but an assault)

3- your body is here to stay as long as you let it, from lazing around, to drugs and alcohol, and even excessive movement, because even if those are hard to let go of (I have adhd, ask me about the last one and you'll receive a longer post) it's even harder to not hate yourself even more because of them

4- don't ever let anyone shame you for what you did or what you have or what you plan, no one has any right, if they have a problem with you, then you have to ignore, cause when someone has a problem with something, they either should keep it to themselves, or find a constructive solution, not just standing there and sneering while they also hate themselves but do not try to move a muscle to find an answer but blame it on someone else.

5- finally but not less important, even if you reached a point where you care about nothing and no one, just remember that there's always someone who does, from the stranger in the supermarket whom you always pass every time you muster the courage to go anywhere, and maybe you used to greet every morning when you were young, to a childhood friend you could still have or lost for one reason or another, to your maybe existing family members who care, to someone you read shit for without knowing who they are but you just like how they portray their storyline to how you picture their characters, to someone so far past they don't exist in your life anymore from time pulling apart to something you can't return from to even animals around you, when you just remember that someone cares enough to even for a second be proud of what you accomplished even if they might not understand it, you know what? forget that, just know that there's a moment when you start to understand and believe that you do care about yourself enough to go for and hopefully reach the destination you had in mind, that you'll be proud of your own individual self, because you believed, and loved, and cared enough to go this far, that's when hating yourself wouldn't even be in the picture because you already reached a point where self-loathing has no place, because you can't afford the extra space from all that you spent to reach where you will be...

So I really was talking about myself and then instead of just directing the words to only my own idiotic brain, I found myself directing it at everyone who has the time and desperation enough to read my nonsense

[yikesharringrove]

Hi there! Can I get something with #13 and #39 with lots of hurt!Billy?, please friend?

Thank you for your request!

13: “Does it hurt?”

39: Stranded with a broken-down car

Prompts!

This got very long, and very angsty although I tried to throw some sweetness around. I hope you enjoy! I have included a lot of my own headcanons about Billy’s mom and his early life soooo. I was also thinking this takes place after season 2, maybe late April? idk.

There isn’t all that much hurt Billy, more Billy’s hurt leads him to word vomiting at Steve and them bonding 🤷‍♀️ I really hope you like it though!

Steve was fucked.

The engine of the BMW was cold. It wouldn’t even try to turn over when he turned the key in the ignition. No sound came from the under the hood.

Steve was on the edge of Hawkins, he had been at the quarry, wiling away some time while he couldn’t sleep. It was probably close to four in the morning now, so he said fuck it, got out of the car, and started walking home. He would hopefully make it with enough time for a shower and some coffee before walking to school. Maybe his old ten-speed was in the garage still...

Headlights blared at him from around the corner, sweeping over and past him before the car stopped and reversed, pulling up with the passenger door at Steve’s elbow.

“Harrington, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Billy Hargrove, his knight in shining denim was speaking through the window, near shouting over the loud purr of the engine and the screaming of some metal band Steve didn’t bother to know the name of.

“I’m walking.”

“I see that, dumbshit. Why are you walking down the fucking highway at four-thirty in the fucking morning?”

“Car broke down by the quarry. Figured I would walk home.” Steve shuffled his feet, looking down. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep. So. Went for a drive.”

“Get in.” He almost didn’t hear Billy’s command, but Steve knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, he got in.

“Thanks, man.” Billy just nodded slightly, his face mostly hidden by the darkness of the night. He floored the car, speeding along away from Hawkins. “Um, you know my house is-it’s the other way.” Steve took in how tense Billy was, his jaw clamped and his shoulders raised. His grip on the steering wheel was nothing like the lazy one-hand her usually kept.

“You ever just need to escape? Even for a little bit?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” Steve settled in his seat. He was not opposed to taking a drive with Billy, who seemed to relax a bit. Steve was always good at reading other people. Sometimes he ignored his gut feelings in favor of something he so desperately wanted (the whole Nancy situation was example enough for that), but he could tell when something was wrong. And something was really fuckin wrong with Billy Hargrove tonight.

They drove in silence, flying down the main highway, past the Leaving Hawkins sign.

Steve turned down the music a fraction. “You wanna go get breakfast? I know a good all diner in Indianapolis. They’ll probably be open by the time we get there. My treat.”

Billy just shrugged, but he didn’t turn the music back up, and Steve called that a win.

It was nearly two hours to the city, longer if the person driving you wasn’t a speed demon, so the sun was rising by the time fields began to give way into suburbs, suburbs blooming into urbanism.

Steve sat up, ready to direct Billy to the diner on the corner of Shelby and Norton when he caught sight of Billy in the weak morning sun.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Billy, what happened?” His left eye was puffy, the cheekbone below it swollen and purple, a cut right on the high point. His jaw had long bruises on either side, as though, well it looked as though someone had grabbed him by it.

Steve thinks the worst thing were Billy’s hands.

His knuckles were white, his grip a vice on the steering wheel, but they were free of any bruising, any splits. Steve had been on the receiving end of those fights. He knew Billy fought back, and well, so if he didn’t.

Maybe he couldn’t.

The thought sent a chill down Steve’s spine.

“Can it Harrington. I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re obviously not ‘fucking fine’, Billy. What happened? Who did this?”

“Look, Princess. I’m not one of your fucking kids, so just shut your fucking mouth and leave it the fuck alone or I will make you get out of my fucking car and WALK back to shithole Hawkins. Give me directions, or get out.”

Steve sighed and led Billy along, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

They pulled up in front of Joe’s Shelby Street Diner just as a kind looking waitress with a round face and a gray ponytail was flipping the sign from closed to open.

“Welcome in boys. Take a seat anywhere you like and I’ll be by with some menus.” She blinked at Billy’s face. “And some coffee.” Steve just nodded at her and led Billy to a corner both against the windows.

“My parents used to take me here.” Steve was staring down at his hands on the table, not knowing where to look. “When I was little my dad opened a branch in the city and got an apartment out here. He would only come home on weekends so every Tuesday my mom would pick me up from school, and we’d drive out here together, and meet my dad for dinner.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling billy all of this.

“My mom worked at a joint like this. I would come and hang out after school. She would sneak me rootbeer floats and help me with my homework on her breaks.” He was smiling bitterly. Steve had never heard Billy say anything about his mother before.

“What was she like?”

Billy took a breath, his own hands nervously tugging on the sleeves of his jacket. The denim one. Steve liked it.

“She had me real young, dropped outta high school when she got pregnant at fifteen kinda young. My dad was in Vietnam when I was born. Married her when he came back. I was six. She was a total hippie, she got kicked outta her house when she got knocked up, and lived on a commune with a buncha people until my dad came back. I think she only married him so she could have a place to sleep that wasn’t a tent in a field. I don’t remember a lotta that. didn’t eat any meat until I was, like eight years old. And she fuckin’ named me after William Pester, this like hippie leader who was real famous or something. ”

Billy took a break from his story when the kind waitress returned to get their orders, both boys loading up on breakfast. Steve tried not to speak so loud, afraid of breaking this spell he had created in this booth with Billy.

“Once my dad was back in the picture, it was pretty different. He’s an asshole. Made her change everything about herself. She was always real Catholic, but kind of a free spirit. Only listened to the parts of The Bible that were nice and said to love everyone, but my dad said pickin’ and choosin’ from The Bible was just pussyfooting around religion. She didn’t like that.

“He was a piece of shit from the jump. Married her because ‘a good man supports his family’ or some garbage. Good man my ass. He would yell at her about how she was raisin’ me. Said he left to defend our country, and here she was making sure his only son grew up to be a fuckin’, well. He has a few choice words about me.”

Their food was set down before them, Steve absolutely enraptured by everything Billy was saying. They ate in silence for a minute.

“Do you mind if, I mean, did she pass away?” Steve wanted Billy to keep talking. He liked learning more about him. Every word he said only softened the edges, made him so much more human.

“Nah. She left. Packed her shit one night and was just, gone. She called me a few weeks later and I fuckin’ BEGGED her to take me with her, but she wouldn't come back. I think she went back to her commune or something. I haven’t seen her since I was ten.”

“So, you’ve been with your dad ever since?”

“Yeah. He’s not jazzed about it. Always likes to remind me that I’m a bastard. He’s the one that fucked a fifteen-year-old. He was like, twenty when he did that.”Billy rolled his eyes, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth.

“Did he, do,, that?” Steve asked the question slowly, carefully. Billy snapped his eyes up to meet him.

“So what if he did?”

“I mean-I just, does it hurt?” Billy just stared.

“Are you stupid?” Steve recoiled. “Of course it fucking hurts. He got me real good this time. He’s been especially bitter since we moved here.”

“I’m sorry. That was a stupid, stupid question.” Steve pushed around the scrambled egg on his plate. “Why did you guys move here?”

“You want Neil’s fake answer, or do you want the real one?” Billy leaned in conspiratorily. Steve mirrored him without even meaning to. “Can you keep a secret, Pretty Boy?”

Images of tunnels, of monsters, of staring death in the face and charging it with a spiked bat, dreams of hard, muscular masculine bodies flashed through his mind.

“Yeah. I’m good at secrets.”

“So Neil likes to say it’s to get a fresh start. Move somewhere where nobody knows us. We can have a clean slate as a family.” He spat the last few words out. “But the real story is, he wanted to get my gay ass outta liberal, free lovin’ California, to a shitty hick town where I would be the victim of a fuckin’ hate crime if I let my impulses run wild. He caught me with a guy. We weren’t even doing anything good, just makin’ out. Dad went apeshit though. Threw me down some stairs.” He rolled his eyes and casually kept eating like he hadn’t just dropped this enormous fucking bomb on Steve. 

“I’m so sorry, Bill.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t hit me. It wasn’t the first time, sure as shit wasn’t the last.”

“Is that why your mom left?”

“Yeah, she was gettin’ it pretty bad there. I mean, so was I, so I don’t get why she left me there with him. Sometimes I really hate her for it.”

“I’m sor-” Steve cut himself off when Billy gave him a sharp look. “You don’t deserve that, is all.”

“I don’t get you, Harrington. You sit there, after I dumped all this shit on you, gave you some incriminating facts about me, and you just tell me I don’t deserve to get hit by my old man. I beat the shit outta you, remember?”

“Yeah, but honestly, I was being super shady that night. I shouldn’t have lied to you about Max.” Steve shrugged. 

“That wasn’t all you, Harrington. I had gotten into it with my dad about her, how she’s my responsibility and all that, and then Mrs. fuckin’ Wheeler was all over me when I went there-I mean, don’t get me wrong. I definitely flirted a little to get some information from her, but all I really did was like, stand there. I think I ate a cookie. Usually, older women just get a little flustered, but she was, like, into it. So, I was runnin’ pretty hot by the time I met you.”

“Oh my GOD, Karen used to flirt with me all the time! I would just sit and awkwardly smile and be like, yes hello, I am here to see your teenage daughter, since I am her teenage boyfriend.” Billy laughed at that, a real boisterous laugh Steve had never heard from him before. Steve decided he liked it. 

“That’s fucking disgusting. Just because she’s unhappy with her life, doesn’t mean she gets to throw her cat at teenage boys.” Steve choked on his pop, trying not to spew it all over the table. 

“Please never say that again,”  he coughed out as Billy threw his head back and laughed. He slowly regained himself. “And, you know, I mean what I said. I’m good at secrets. I won’t, I’m not gonna tell anybody.” Billy smiled at him. 

“Yeah? King Steve got some secrets? Any you’d like to share with the class? You know, so we’re on even turf here.” Billy winked. Steve’s face went hot. 

“Well, I mean, you and I may have some things in, uh, in common.” 

“What, like shitty dads?”

“No. Well, I mean yes, but other things.”

“Mommy issues?”

“Oh, definitely, but like, OTHER stuff, too.” He willed Billy to understand. He didn’t know if he’d be able to say it out loud. 

Luckily Billy got it. A look of pure shock spread over his face, followed by a huge grin.

“No fuckin’ way. No fuckin’ way you’re gay too, Harrington.”

“Well, I mean. I don’t know.”

Billy’s face fell.

“You don’t know?”

“I mean, like, I like girls. A lot. Like I love girls and everything about them, but there’s also, there’s also guys. And I-there’s definite interest, is what I’m saying.”

Billy smiled again, a softer one this time. 

“That’s okay. Y’know some people are into both. Bisexual, is the word. David Bowie is bisexual. For some people, it’s more about the personality of the person, less the, bits I guess.”

“There’s-I mean-Bowie? Sorry, I just mean, like, there are people like that?”

“Yeah, the whole thing doesn’t have to be black and white if that’s not what you feel.”

“Fuck. That was-thanks man.” Steve mulled the word around in his head. Bisexual. It made sense. It felt, good. “Bisexual.” Billy smiled at him again. He returned it.

Billy checked his watch, yawning like a huge cat. 

“Fuck, Pretty Boy. We should probably head back. If we go fast we could probably only be a little bit late for class. 

“I mean, or we could say fuck it.” 

Billy’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah? What do you suggest we do?”

“I don’t even care man, but it’s been way too long since I’ve been in the city, and I feel like we could both use a break from fucking Hawkins. Plus, I don’t know. I like hanging out with you.”

Steve ducked his head, studying the patch of table by Billy’s left elbow, face hot and undoubtedly red. 

“I could go for a nice day of playing hooky with you.” Steve beamed at Billy, throwing some bills down on the table. 

“Then lets fucking go then.” He bounded back to the Camaro, Billy’s sweet laugh ringing through the diner.

Oh yeah, Steve could definitely get used to this.

[kleml]

Pogrom

@geraltwhumpweek

Day 7 Kaer Morhen

Gen, All Media, 820 words

Summary: That year, when Geralt returned to Kaer Morhen in autumn, everyone he knew was dead.

It was empty. Kaer Morhen was empty, just like him, and Kaer Morhen has never been empty before. Kaer Morhen was full, full of sorrow, corpses and dullness that every one of them now carried inside. Because Geralt was crafted to bear with pain, not sorrow. Witchers were not to care about anything or anyone on the Path. They were never forbidden to care about each other, and most probably, it was their biggest mistake.

He wanted to run. He wanted to hate. He wanted to cry too, but buried it deep enough to try and stay strong. But there was no point in that because how were they ever to remain strong when they were shattered, when they had no home?

They knew it was coming. They knew beforehand that there was a plan, a conflict, an issue deep enough to provoke something big. None of them did anything about it.

He dug the graves because he couldn't bear to do anything else, and helped in the kitchen. Their cook was dead now, Miroslav with his wide smile and tasty smell that made Kaer Morhen home.

He despised Vesemir. How could he dare to be alive when everyone else was dead? How did he dare to be with them, when the hallways were covered with kids' blood, their kids, when the masters, both old with hair gone white and young, fresh from the Path, lied in piles, stabwounds all over their bodies? He knew Vesemir was also found among them, miraculously alive. He still hated him the most.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't sleep. He didn't know how was he going to live, either.

They buried every single witcher. Every druid. Every mage. They threw the bodies of their attackers on a cart and brought it to the valley. Left it there. Muiri, the village of the valley they all loved and traded with, was supposed to stay on their side. But people were never to be trusted. It sounded more of a joke before. The villagers ran, leaving their attackers untombed. There were going to be ghouls and foglets there. Dozens. It wasn't their concern anymore.

Still, he tried to remain calm. Push away the thoughts about Kaedwenian politics, about the recent plague, about the accusations thrown at them. About how if they didn't ignore it, the king and the army wouldn't have murdered them. Not them. Their chi-

He thought about Lambert. About their meeting several months earlier, discussion of the rumours. "Go away, hide", he gave him advice. "Head south, winter in whatever shithole you find, wait it over. I'll go there, see what it's like. Keep low ground." Lambert's bragging and comments. Thoughts about the future. About how he hoped it will be over soon, and how maybe they will let him train that kid he saved ages ago, and when the kid will pass the trials too, it will already be safe on the Path again, like it had been for them. They will never know now if the kid was to gain the medallion. Lambert didn't know yet. Thank gods.

He tried to forget. Forget their life as it was before. The gorgeous place that used to be where the ruins lied now. The voices of his friends whose dead faces he was afraid to look at.

Eskel arrived late. Looked around with round eyes and frantic "I came as soon as I heard". They were never all that close, but now Eskel was the closest thing Geralt had to his memories, and he hugged him almost cracking some bones. They were almost the youngest ones to be alive, and they weren't that young.

It was okay, before. Death. Some would die quickly during the first trials, others wouldn't pass the exam, some would disappear on the Path. There was always someone left alive to be a witcher. There used to be so many of them. Geralt never realized it before he started counting the bodies.

He let it out. He cried. He screamed, too, letting his agony out in the middle of the mountains. He cried so long the snow almost covered him up. He cried about the thorn apart looks of those he knew and didn’t know. About his memories. His trust in people. The plans he had. Their witchers-to-be. They were going to let him stay for several years and teach. He was looking forward to it. Every winter the best time he had was with kids, who crawled into his lap, listened to the tales about knights, fiddled with his hair, fell asleep, curled up to him, like the greatest treasure in the world. Witchers couldn't have children, but they had their own, forgotten, orphaned, hated, given away like trash. Grasses never killed more of them than a hungry life would kill anyways. And they grew strong. Grew up fighting. Grew up to, hopefully, be good people, righteous and fair. Geralt was never going to have kids again. Kaer Morhen was never going to take in kids again. All the tales, all the books, toys, clothes and beds, will have to be thrown away. It became history. Part of him became history too.